


An Arpeggio of Ice on Fire

by WriterNightpen



Series: Between Walls of Ice and Ships of Steel [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Black Rock Shooter - All Media Types, 蒼き鋼のアルペジオ | Aoki Hagane no Arpeggio | Arpeggio of Blue Steel
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Clarke's Third Law, Cooking, F/M, Isekai, Japanese Culture, Japanese food, Magic, Original Character(s), Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Politics, Slow Build, Transmigration, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 88,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23678308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterNightpen/pseuds/WriterNightpen
Summary: Yamato goofed, and her fleet were transported to a world of magic and steel. Ordinary isekai protagonists would have freaked out by now, but hey, Mental Models are not humans.(Firstpublished 27/3/2017)
Relationships: Tyrion Lannister/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Between Walls of Ice and Ships of Steel [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2068722
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All trademarked items in this fanfiction is owned by their respective copyright holders (A Song of Ice and Fire by George R.R. Martin, Aoki Hagane no Arpeggio by Ark Performance, and others). The ones owned by me are future OCs, plot, and author's thoughts. This fanfiction is made solely for entertainment purposes and not intended for any material gain.
> 
> Hello and welcome to my fic! This is crossposted from Ffn and likely have only minor differences from that version. Still, enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a misfire brought them to Planetos, I guess. Oh, and then Gerion showed up.

"Sit-rep," a black-haired woman clad in a white dress seemed to call into thin air atop the deck of her ship. "Yamato Task Force, sit-rep."

"Jolly old mess that was," another woman clad in sweaters, miniskirts, and white lab-coat remarked. "I told you firing your super-graviton cannon while your Mirror-Ring Field was discharging was a bad idea."

"Can it, Hyuuga," yet another woman, clad in a form of naval uniform, said. "The antennas are relatively undamaged, but I can't get any radio reception whatsoever. It's as if the whole world has gone silent."

"The massive quantum anomaly we created might have something to do with that," Hyuuga chirped. "Do you need a hand, Yamato?"

"Much obliged. Can you take care of the sensor suites, Hyuuga?" The first black-haired woman, Yamato, said. "Amaha will continue to run damage control and propulsion."

"Understood, Supreme Flagship~" Hyuuga replied, her hands already tapping away at holographic pads popping up in front of her. "Oh lordy lordy… wait what? Yamato, did we get reactor breach in the tussle? I'm detecting absurd amounts of Thanatonium in the air…"

"No, there is no indications of any reactor breach whatsoever. Our citadel is pretty much intact," Amaha replied to Hyuuga's question. "A few of the weapon silos are compromised, but the signature of the airborne Thanatonium is more consistent with fuel-grade compared to weapons-grade…"

"I'm receiving hails from most of our Task Force," Yamato said almost off-handedly. "Yahagi, Isokaze, Hatsushimo, Fuyutsuki, Suzutsuki, Hamakaze, Kasumi, Yukikaze, Shinano, Akashi, I-400, and I-402 is online and recovering their bearings. I've placed a beacon for them to assemble around us."

"Tell the surface vessels to start filtering the air for Thanatonium particulates, too," Hyuuga added. "More fuel is always better. The subs can hold the stuff if the surface vessels run out of safe storage space."

"How much can we expect from air filtration, Hyuuga?" Yamato asked.

"Judging from the thickness of this particulate fog and the radar reading of this surrounding area? I'd say around 300-400 micrograms per meter cubic of air, easily," the brunette with a monocle replied. "That's enough for a week of propulsion on heavy use, or two standard supercavs after refining."

"Why, though…" Amaha muttered in disbelief.

"I don't think we're on earth anymore, Yamato. I checked the radar and sonar maps of the surrounding area against a copy of the world map and found absolutely zero match. That is statistically not possible," Hyuuga said. "Not unless we're on a different planet altogether. Besides, Thanatonium is not naturally-occurring… at least not airborne Thanatonium."

"Interesting… what do you suggest?" Amaha said as she tapped away at her holographic pads. "Engine output is nominal for the moment. Quantic shockwaves damaged one of our propellers and scrambled multiple reactor cells but it can be recovered with time and available resources."

"I guess we must prioritize repairs," Hyuuga remarked. "After that, build a satellite network. Those stolen military satellite blueprints would do nicely."

"We must anchor down for the moment, take stock of our damages before seeing what lies behind the fog," Yamato suggested. "After that, rebuilding and forays for resource will start. Everybody got that?"

"Yes Ma'am~" Hyuuga replied.

…

A long twenty months had passed since Gerion Lannister left the castle of Casterly Rock. His ship, the Laughing Lion, has been through so much. Her main mast held only the tattered remains of a sail. Half the remaining men choked to death on the first day they entered this accursed smoke, while the slaves seemed more content on sleeping with fishes than to forge onwards. Nature takes care of the remaining crew via krakens, starvation, and the weather. As a result, he was the last living man on board the Laughing Lion.

That is, until the drifting ship broke out of the pea-soup fog to a clear area. Gerion could barely saw past five yards in the fog, but suddenly he could see the Lannister flag atop the main mast clear as day. He then hacked out blood again, a routine plaguing him the past three days.

Bracing against the second mast on the cog, Gerion then spotted an odd white triangle against the background of blackish water. Summoning a burst of energy, he hobbled to the side and desperately shouted whatever nonsense his heat-struck mind could conjure.

His last sight was the small vessel sailing towards his ship, and he would not be conscious when he was rescued.

After a seeming eternity, Gerion Lannister opened his eyes. He felt like he wasn't lying on hard floor, but on a firm matress. The ceiling on the room is a clean off-white, while a strange orb of light provide illumination. A smooth cotton shirt and pants protected him from the slightly chilly air.

"Ah, there you are. I was afraid that the fog had caused lasting damage," a soft female voice said as Gerion tried to push himself up. "Your lungs were in an early stage of poisoning, but our scouts got you here on time."

"I… I thank you, madam," Gerion said as he finished siutting up and accepted a glass of water from the well-endowed woman. "Where… am I?"

"You are in our ship. Scouts from our fleet spotted your sailship adrift and devoid of sails," the woman said as she accepted the empty glass. "So many ships doesn't share the same good fate of being intact and floating."

"Those strange sails… it was your scout, then?" Gerion asked, having succeeded in propping himself towards the wall.

"Yes, it is," Hyuuga replied.

"May I have your name?" Gerion said.

"Call me Hyuuga. The 'u' is long," the brunette said, smiling.

"I see… I, Gerion Lannister, owes you my life," Gerion said, her gaze to Hyuuga's eyes piercing. "And I assure you that House Lannister shall see the debt paid in full if you can get me back to Casterly Rock."

"Hmm, a nobleman, then?" Hyuuga said jovially. "I'll see what I can do to get you back to… this port of Casterly Rock. I need to consult my leader about this."

"I see. I shall wait for your word, then," Gerion said.

"There's a guest room prepared for you," Hyuuga said as she gets up from the bedside chair. "You can rest there while I speak to my leader about this. Are you well enough to walk on your own? Try to stand, now."

"I… I think I am," Gerion said as he gingerly climbed out of the cot he was in. "I'd thought I'd be weaker after all those ordeal…"

"You are dead asleep for little over three days, I think," Hyuuga said as she proffered a hand.

"I did? That's…" Gerion replied as he tested his knees. To his satisfaction, they held his weight fine if a little sore.

"Quite usual, considering what ordeal you might have encountered before coming near us," Hyuuga replied.

"Lead the way then," Gerion said as he took a few careful steps to the door Hyuuga just opened.

"Well then, mister Gerion Lannister," Hyuuga said with some flourish. "I formally welcome you to the fortress-ship Yamato, the seat of House Kirino. I hope you enjoy your stay."

…

"Really Hyuuga. House Kirino. Really," Yamato remarked dryly as three women convened on a white room. A coffee table stood in the middle ringed by four garden chairs.

"You ask me to play by my ears, so I play by ear," Hyuuga grumbled. "I think we're dealing with feudal governmental system, so I introduced ourselves like one."

"How goes the exploration to adjoining lands, Yahagi?" the lady asked a third person by the table, a lean woman with hair done in a ponytail.

"We found several islands and islets within twenty miles, the map has been updated. There are ruins on some of the islands, and isotope dating seem to put them on the 400-500 year range. We even found remnants of ancient weapons on some larger ruins," Yahagi reported. "No extant human settlement of significant size and progress seem to exist around here, but I found undisturbed wildlife and recent signs of forage."

"Possibility of nomadic cultures, then?" Yamato wondered aloud.

"Within reasonable guess," Yahagi answered.

"There's also some Thanatonium in the water, in concentrations around twice of the airborne. With the amount we have gathered collectively, we can rest easy for at least five decades," Hyuuga said.

"How about nanomachine replenishment?" Yamato asked.

"To tell you the truth? Rampant. At least 20% faster than conventional rates back home. At this rate I can have enough non-grid nanomachines for Akashi to reconstruct my ship hull in a month or so, other resources permitting," the brunette said before releasing a short giggle. "I chalk it to all the dissolved Thanatonium in the water. All we need to do now is gather the mineral resources needed for our second set of GPS satellites."

"Good. We should find a suitable island for our production facility soon," Yamato said while tapping her fingers to the table. "Would you run the facility, Hyuuga?"

"Absolutely! As long as you allow science to happen," the brunette answered the question.

"Well then, now it's the matter of how we'll prop the notion of our 'House Kirino' up for our guest," Yamato said.

"A samurai-style noble house could be rather interesting notion to push…" Hyuuga added, a smile wide on her lips. "You do have much of the internet saved, do you Yamato?"

"Mostly on warfare topics, but yeah," Yamato said, grinning. "That particular server block will be made accessible to all of the fleet. Can you construct a disk farm for that?"

"Well, we'll see about getting a few islands prepared," Hyuuga replied.

"Can I play the 'loyal badass bodyguard' role?" Yahagi piped up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gerion came to a bargain.

Gerion awoke the next day, feeling fairly fresh. The small room he was shown to was clean, and smelled vaguely of flowers he don't recognize. There was a simple study and whatever these Kirino kinsmen considered as a smokeless candle, as well as a rather uncomfortable metal chair to go with it; He supposes he could start penning his memoirs if he wanted to. A strange self-drawing bath and self-cleaning chamberpot in a separate room complemented the quarters.

 _How long had I been away from Casterly Rock, really?_ Gerion thought. Events after his last touch with civilization three weeks ago in Volantis seem like half a lifetime away now. Cersei might have bore another child by now…

A sharp rap sounded on the door, and Gerion moved to open the door.

"Good morning, my lord," the playful voice of Hyuuga said, a tray of food in her hands.

"Ah, milady Hyuuga," Gerion returned her greeting before allowing her entrance. "You should have not bothered with delivering my food like a servant…"

"Running a ship this large is hardly a simple task with a skeleton crew, Lord Gerion," the Kirino brunette said as she set the tray on the table. "Tasks get commuted, and even the lady of the house sits down with the retainers for meals."

"Is that so…" the Lannister man said. "Well then, I suppose it's time to break my fast."

"Allow me to walk you through some of our cuisine," Hyuuga said as she stood to the side of the study. "This is a soup made from the broth of fish and kelp, sprinkled with dried seaweed. The grilled meat comes from the same kind of fish used to make the broth, we call it maguro. It is a staple of our people, given that we rarely ventured to land. The last is sweet jelly dessert, made from boiled seaweed."

"I see…" Gerion replied as he cut the meat to manageable pieces and eating it.

"We believe in cooking lightly, Lord Gerion," Hyuuga said as she noticed Gerion's eyes widen with surprise. "And I see our cook has surpassed your expectation?"

"He most certainly has flew over it with leaps and bounds, milady!" Gerion enthusiastically said after he swallowed another piece of fish. "It's as if the fish was prepared before my very eyes! Its freshness complements the sauce perfectly!"

"Now, as I said yesterday, I would raise the issue of your safe passage with the leader of our fleet, Lady Yamato," Hyuuga said as Gerion poured water to his glass and then drank. "She will meet you for lunch today, atop the deck."

"I suppose I would have to plead my case to her, then… I pray my tongue is loose enough for that," Gerion said as a jest.

"Very well. I shall leave you to your meal, and I'll fetch you when it's time," Hyuuga said with a smile as she retreated to the door.

Left to his own devices with the closing of the door, Gerion's lessons in decorum fled him as he devoured the sumptious meal.

* * *

…

* * *

A sharp rap jolted Gerion from his light nap, signaling the nearing time for the meeting with the ruling lady of the house.

"Ready for the meeting?" Hyuuga's soft, slightly playful words greeted Gerion as he opened the door. "I repaired and cleaned your leathers, but I'm afraid most of your clothes are unrepairable."

"That is more than enough, Lady Hyuuga," Gerion said, accepting a basket with said leathers. "I shall prepare for the meeting now."

"I'll wait here, then," Hyuuga said as she closed the door.

There was a wait in silence, punctuated with the sound of changing clothes. Finally, Gerion emerged from the chamber, dressed as smart as he can.

"Well then, we best be off," the escort said.

And so they went, through the cramped and twisting gangways of the great ship. Gerion's mind boggled with the amount of steel he can see. If the ship could ever be dismantled, he could probably outfit the entire population of both Casterly Rock and Lannisport with heavy armor.

After what seemed like half a day of traversing the ship, the duo finally emerged to a deck covered in oak planks polished to high shine. A tower of even more steel rose like the Braavosi Titan in their background, replete with what seemed like strange spikes and glass windows. Far in the distance, Gerion spots a small entourage sitting by what seemed to be a circular table.

"Announcing the honored guest, Lord Gerion Lannister of Casterly Rock!" Hyuuga bellowed as the duo stopped about twenty steps from the table.

"Please, be seated by our round table, Lord Lannister!" came the reply from the table.

"Thank you… my ladies," Gerion said as he seated himself across two women clad in rather simple finery, one stark white and one light blue.

"Greetings, Lord Gerion Lannister," the white-dressed lady introduced herself. "I am the head of House Kirino, Yamato Kirino. Beside me clad in sea blue, is my twin sister Amaha Kirino. You are undoubtedly well-acquainted with my wise-woman, Hyuuga Kirino. Standing behind in attention is my master-of-arms and chief retainer, Swordheart."

"I am honored to feast with you, Lady Kirino. I am Gerion Lannister, fourth son of Tytos Lannister of House Lannister in Casterly Rock. My eldest brother Tywin Lannister rules our realm of Westerlands in Westeros as its Lord Paramount, subordinate to King Robert Baratheon of King's Landing," Gerion replied. "I owe your house my life, and I am prepared to repay it in full should you succeed to bring me back to Casterly Rock."

"I see," Amaha said. "We would endeavor to take you back to where you are from, Lord Gerion… but to take the _Yamato_ itself for the journey would be a massive drain on our resources. Not to mention that it has accumulated damage, enough to slow her significantly."

"We could, however, spare a catamaran manned by one of our trusty navigators," Yamato took over from her twin sister. "The vessel is light and fast, and your journey home would be one of relative comfort."

"I could not ask for more, Lady Kirino," Gerion said. "To be able to survive the Smoking Sea is plenty an achievement in itself. To my knowledge, nobody can say that they entered and returned to tell the tale."

"I'm sure there is a reason for you to undertake such a danger, Lord Gerion," Amaha replied.

"I was on a quest to retrieve an ancestral sword of House Lannister, Brightroar," Gerion answered the unstated question. "It was lost when one of our forefathers tried to assert claim to the land of then recently-broken Valyria, somewhere south of here I'd imagine."

"I see… must be a very precious item, that," Hyuuga commented.

"It is, Lady Hyuuga," Gerion replied. "It is one of the two hundred known Valyrian steel arms in Westeros. The steel holds its edge forever, never to break or bend. Brightroar itself has been reported to have cleaved through three necks in one swing. Sadly, there could be no more blade like it as the secret of its making vanished along with its origin, Valyria."

"Interesting," the wise-woman said. "It sounds similar to the property of our Swordheart's sword. If you're so kind to show our guest, Swordheart…?"

"Pardon me," Swordheart replied as she undid the tassels securing her swords to her belt. After she finished, she handed the swords to Yamato, who then put both on the table.

"Kuroki and Shiroge, the arms of our Swordheart," Yamato said as she picked the curved sword in black scabbard. "Shiroge the White Fang, twenty-eight inches in length. The silver ripples of its edge is punctuated by white needles."

"Kuroki the Dark Tree, twenty-five inches in length," Amaha picked up where her sister left off, unsheathing the other sword. "The silver on its black edge has swirls resembling the rings of an oak."

"Such a pattern… could this be a Valyrian Steel blade in itself?" Gerion mused while marveling the beauty of the blade.

"It is tradition that a suitable blade would be forged when a Swordheart rise beside the liege," Hyuuga clarified. "And when a Swordheart dies, the blade will follow to the beyond. Neither before nor after."

"A Swordheart…?" Gerion asked. "You mean that her name is a title of office?"

"Yes. The current Swordheart, her, rose to office seven years ago," Amaha answered.

"I see…" Gerion said. "Would it be possible to forge another sword such as this?"

"It is possible, but rather time-consuming," Hyuuga replied. "The property of Valyrian steel blade you described is fairly close to our katana, yet I know not if it will hold its edge forever and such."

"If I might impose upon you for more, Lady Yamato…" Gerion said carefully. "On the behalf of House Lannister, I would like to commission such a blade. If I were to sail home without Brightroar, I could at least return with a blade of similar worth."

"What say you, Hyuuga? Can you prepare a blade worthy of Brightroar's legend?" the matriarch of the house put forward after a few beats of silence.

"Is that a challenge, my Admiral?" Hyuuga answered. "You fair know what I am capable of. Give me three weeks."

"Such a long time? I never knew forging one blade can take that long," Gerion commented.

"The process of forging our kind of swords is as much physical as it is spiritual, Lord Gerion. I'm sure you could understand that," Hyuuga retorted.

"I suppose there is no fighting you there, then," Gerion acquiesced. "Three weeks it is."

"The wise has spoken, then. We shall prepare your vessel and your sword in three weeks," Yamato stated, an amused smile blooming on her thin lips.

"What of payment, Sister?" Amaha cut into the dialogue.

"What do you think, Lord Lannister?" Yamato diverted the question. "What do you think is worthy for a safe passage of a lord bearing a sword worthy of Brightroar's name?"

"I… I cannot say for sure milady. I could say a castle and the surrounding land, at least…" Gerion answered unsurely.

"Such a cheap reward," Yamato replied. "A wise man of old once said, a true teacher gifts his student with power beyond that of gold."

"We wish to put one of our own in the ruling council of your land," Amaha supplemented. "So we might know your governance and liaise with such a powerful House."

"We could use more gold and silver," Hyuuga said. "And iron, too."

"Oh you materialistic wise-woman," Yamato grunted playfully. "Add a chest of each material, to be delivered by the returning vessel. What say you, Lord Lannister?"

"Might I raise the amount? I'm sure three or four chests of each would be a much more suitable reward," the Lannister lord said. "After all, the original Brightroar was bought with gold enough to raise an army…"

"I don't really mind about the amount," Yamato replied. "I'm more concerned about the capacity of the vessel bearing it back home."

"Take it as our token of good will for the future, lord Gerion," Amaha added to her sister's words.

"I see, Lady Kirino. Then I shall endeavor that my eldest brother pay your price in full," Gerion concluded the negotiations.

So, three weeks later, a single-masted catamaran bearing four people and a blade made its way through the Smoking Seas towards the port city of Casterly Rock, a recovered Lannister flag high on its mainmast.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which katanas are overpowered in d20.

"Harbormaster," a lad respectfully said as he entered the office of Casterly Rock's harbormaster.

"What do you have for me, lad?" the harbormaster spoke, his sight still on a sheaf of documents he was checking.

"Lookouts on the watchtower has spotted a strange vessel entering harbor, sire," the lad said. "It has one mast, triangular mainsail, two hulls touching the water, and a Lannister flag flying on top of its mast."

There was a few beats of silence as the lad witnessed the harbormaster shifted his sight to the messenger boy, his brow creased.

"Have you checked it? We don't expect any returning ships for at least three days," the harbormaster scratched his head.

"The lookouts seem sure…" the lad said unsurely.

"Well then, they should be nearing the piers by now. Let us see who our mystery guest is," the harbormaster said. "Besides, I could use a break."

By the time the harbormaster and his men-at-arms entourage reached the harbor, the harbormaster noticed that a small band of idle dock-workers and bystanders had gathered on one of the piers. Apparently, the shape of the ship was unusual enough to provoke the crowd's curiosity. The harbormaster and his entourage made their way to the front as the ship approaches, and by then it is clear which lion brought a queer ship into the harbor of Casterly Rock.

"I had not expected this warm of welcome," a man with curly golden hair remarked, eyeing the crowd with a smile that is partly relieved and partly nostalgic.

"Well, you have been gone more than two years by now," the girl manning the sails said.

"L-lord Gerion, is that you?" one of the guards with the harbormaster's entourage blurted out.

"I-it is! Lord Gerion returns!" another shouted. The murmurs turn into a cheer as more bystander joined the crowd. The harbormaster discretely sent one of his guards to alert the ruler of the hill turned castle.

"Citizens of Casterly Rock, it is I, Gerion Lannister!" Gerion declared as one of the workers put a plank to connect the pier to the deck. "I have returned from the Smoking Sea!"

"Uncle Gerion," a small man stepped to the end of the plank, his eyes is alight with curiosity and wonderment. "I was beginning to think that you have became crab food in a shipwreck somewhere."

"My favorite nephew Tyrion coming out to greet me? This day cannot be any better!" Gerion said as he bent down and gave the abnormally-short man a hug. "Miladies, may I present you my nephew Tyrion Lannister! What he lacked in height he makes up in intelligence and wit!"

"My ladies," Tyrion bowed tho the two disembarking ladies, which they returned. The third, smaller female is busy securing the peculiar ship to the quay. "Who are they, Uncle?"

"They are ladies of the House Kirino. They rescued me when I was adrift and half-dead in the Smoking Sea," the uncle replied as the crowd parted to allow passage of the entourage. "Oh, the tales we can tell! How Lady Swordheart speared a kraken right behind the eye and killed it in one thrust! How Lady Suzutsuki steered the skiff past shoals with half of it airborne! The seat of their house is a floating keep!"

Gerion boasted all their way to the reception hall, and Tyrion listened with rapt attention.

* * *

…

* * *

"Presenting, Gerion Lannister and The Ladies of House Kirino!"

The murmurs in the reception hall quieted down as Gerion Lannister and three ladies strode into the middle of the great hall. Almost all of the Lannisters and their associated retainers currently in Casterly Rock was in attendance, curious of the story that Gerion Lannister had arrived from a journey into what was Valyria and survived to tell the tale. The three ladies accompanying him was also a curiosity, with sharp and lean features like no one else in Westeros.

"Gerion," the severe-looking man sitting on the great seat said succinctly as the entourage presented themselves. "It is really you."

"Aye, Tywin my brother. What were you expecting? Pretenders?" Gerion replied.

"There have been three," Tywin said coldly. "They never left the gates alive."

"I see nobody has been able to replicate my charming smile," Gerion said, his tone changing to formal in the later half of the conversation. "I have returned from my quest, my lord brother."

"And?" Tywin asked, still calmly leaning on his throne's back. "Have you found the lost heirloom?"

"In a manner of speaking, I found it," Gerion replied, accepting a cloth-wrapped bundle from the ponytailed girl. He unveiled it, revealing a somewhat intact handle and three inches' worth of blade. The pommel has a roaring lion's head on it. "All that is left from Brightroar is this."

"This is… identical to the records we have, milord. It is, beyond doubt, what remains of Brightroar," a man who stepped into view from the sides said after he briefly examined the broken blade. "What on seven hells could do that to Valyrian steel…?"

"I do not know Maester Creylen, nor do I linger long enough to find out. I nearly burned my lung again recovering the stub," Gerion replied to the maester in a serious tone.

"Then… all your quest is for naught?" Tywin said, his guarded tone almost sad.

"No. I persuaded the head of House Kirino, whose representatives stood before you today, to smith a suitable replacement," Gerion said as he motioned for the ponytailed woman to present the third sword she was carrying. "Behold, Lionfang."

There was a sound of a sword loosed from its scabbard, and those close enough to behold the blade unconsciously held their breath. The blade seemed more black than silver, the patterns reminiscent of claw gashes. The light curve and the slim edge of the blade sets it apart from the style of blade the Westerosi are accustomed of seeing every day.

"A curved bastard sword? Most peculiar…" Tywin remarked as the woman presented him with the bared blade.

"A katana of twenty-five inches, two and a half fingers wide at the base, its pattern accentuated with dendrites in the form of claw-marks. A light curve of the sword made it a fair sword for horsemen, but most dangerous when used on foot," the woman said. "Its slash is the strongest, though its thrust is not to be taken lightly… my lord."

"It is a very pretty sword, granted," Tywin remarked, taking a few swings. "But pretty swords… tend to get its owner killed."

"Then allow me to demonstrate how sharp Lionfang is, Lord Lannister," the ponytailed woman said. "Would someone here volunteer their sword?"

"Your sword, Hound," Tywin said to an armored man standing on the sides while handing the sword back to the ponytailed woman knight. The man stepped up and unfastened his sword, putting its hilt forward towards the woman.

"Keep it in the scabbard, face the lord, and hold it straight upwards, sir," the woman said as she sheathed Lionfang and held it by her waist with her left hand. The man referred to as The Hound grunted.

"Haa!" the woman shouted as she unsheathed the blade and sundered The Hound's sword in one smooth swing. The hall went deathly quiet. The clatter of the Hound's sundered half of the sword falling to the ground only punctuated the silence. By the time Lionfang finished entering its sheath again, there not a single eye on the hall not on the warrior woman.

"…Hound, I wish to inspect your sundered sword," Tywin broke the silence. The Hound complied, bringing the sundered pieces to Tywin as he asked. "Where did you procure this one?"

"I obtained the longsword from one of Lannisport's smiths. It costed me a hundred and five stags and of high quality steel," the armored man answered.

"An adequate sword for a retainer of Casterly Rock, indeed," Tywin remarked. "You shall be reimbursed by twice that amount, Hound."

"Such is the cutting ability of Lionfang, milord," the lady knight said as she presented the sheathed sword.

"Are you convinced now, Brother?" Gerion asked.

"Much to my disbelief, yes," Tywin said, accepting the curved sword. "How much House Lannister owed House Kirino for my youngest brother's life, his passage, the remains of Brightroar, and this fine sword, Lady…?"

"My name is Swordheart, and I am a mere retainer of House Kirino. A knight, if you will. My liege sent me to instruct anyone who wants to learn in the use of Lionfang," the ponytailed warrior replied while stepping backwards. "House Kirino's representative is Lady Hamakaze Kirino, the one with short gray hair."

"Very well. Lady Hamakaze, how much do House Lannister owe House Kirino?" Tywin again asked.

"The price agreed upon between lord Gerion and my liege lady Yamato is one chest of gold, one chest of silver, one chest of iron, and a seat in your governing council," Hamakaze stated after she stepped forward. "The chests shall be borne by House Kirino's navigator, Lady Suzutsuki here, on her ship in the journey home."

"Brightroar was paid upon with gold enough to raise an army," Tywin said pensively. "Your house set the price… uniquely. It is both high and low."

"The agreement has been made between my liege and Lord Gerion, and I was only sent to deliver the news and sit in your council," Hamakaze said simply. "Although Lady Yamato has expressed consent to any additions deemed worthy, subject to the navigator's assessment."

"I see. You shall take part in our governance where I deem fit," Tywin replied. "Then… might I offer you something more? A life for a life, I might say,"

"I'm afraid I do not follow, my lord," Hamakaze said.

"Would your house be interested in arranging a marriage between my son Tyrion and a member of House Kirino?" Tywin asked, his body leaning to the front. A collective soft gasp can be heard within the crowd. Tyrion blinked owlishly.

"I… must consult my liege for that, Lord Tywin. The answer would not be coming soon," Hamakaze answered. "We took three months sailing from where the Yamato is, and I'd imagine it would take about the same time for the letter to reach Lady Yamato, winds permitting. Lord Gerion has said about ravens as a primary mode of missive communication on Westeros, but we have no such privilege."

"Very well, a letter of mine will go alongside the material payment. As this is a joyous occasion, supper shall be extravagant," Tywin said.

* * *

…

* * *

"A resounding success," Yamato said happily. They once again convened in the nondescript white room with the garden table and chairs.

"I'd say we had them hook-line-sinker if the lord offered his son right away like that, yes," Hyuuga remarked, chuckling. "How is the progress of setting signal relays, 400?"

"With the help of nanomachines from the hulls of Hamakaze and Yahagi, I've been able to seed the local seabed with enough nanomachines to accelerate the process we started in the Smoking Sea. The hulls will regenerate its nanomachines within half a year," A white-haired girl in green dress said. "We'll have full quantum communication grid from Home Waters to here within three months. Growth is projected at 10% over original world baseline."

"Not as high as in the Smoking Sea," Yamato noted.

"Dissolved and particulate Thanatonium in the water adds up to a bit under 65% that of the Home Waters," Hyuuga said. "Crazy stuff. It's as if the rocks here bleed Thanatonium."

"All the more reason to sink our claws deeper, no?" Yamato giggled softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Hamakaze's Mental Model looks pretty much like her namesake in Kancolle.  
> \- Yahagi/Swordheart in this fic looks like Kancolle's Yahagi, only with a much shorter ponytail and sidelocks.  
> \- Suzutsuki's Mental Model has back-length brown hair bunched in a messy ponytail, with a slender and toned body five feet two inches tall. She's pretty much a taller Mei Irizaki (from Haifuri).


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we see Sandor's Lannisport shopping trip.

Sandor Clegane rode out from Casterly Rock feeling a little richer than before. His purse is thirty silver moons heavier, and what he need is a new sword and scabbard from the smiths. Perhaps he needs a special commission from King's Landing; He had heard of Tobho Mott's excellent swords, and with this reimbursement money he might even try to afford one of his more modest creations.

The thought of yesterday's events still linger in The Hound's mind. The event happened behind enough doors that rumors don't spread that quickly, but Sandor is sure he'll be the target of cock japes soon enough. Even then it was secondary to actually being there, holding the sword as the lady retainer of House Kirino sundered sword and scabbard with a single swipe of the new Lannister heirloom sword.

"Hello, Sandor," A voice said from behind him greeted as he walked through the bustling streets of Lannisport.

"Ah, Ser Sarsfield," The Hound replied after glancing to the greeter. "Coming here for the smithies?"

"Yah. I think I have a notch on my sword," Sarsfield answered the question. "Getting a new sword?"

"Aye, you saw what that Kirino knight did to the old one," Sandor said.

"Women shouldn't hold that much power," Sarsfield let out his opinion. "They should just raise kids and cook dinner instead of handling fine swords, don't you think? Let us boys hack each other instead of them!"

"Aye," Sandor replied half-heartedly.

"…and to your left, you see the street where the forges reside. The smiths of Lannisport are second to none here in the Westerlands," a familiar voice can be heard as they approach the intersection. "Ah, Ser Sarsfield and The Hound! Getting to the smithies too, I imagine?"

"Lord Tyrion," Sandor replied to the greeting.

"Lord Tyrion," Sarsfield said with his head bowed too. "In the matter of fact, yes we are headed to the forges. Taking the entourage sight-seeing?"

"Guilty as charged," Tyrion said. "Part of the entourage, anyway. Lady Hamakaze is with Father and Uncle Kevan in the council. This is Lady Suzutsuki, the navigator who bore Uncle Gerion and the delegates on the journey here, and this… well, Swordheart the Knight has acquainted herself well enough to the whole keep yesterday didn't she."

"How do you do~" the lithe navigator curtsied a little bit, while the knight dipped her head a fair distance.

"Well met… ladies," Sarsfield barely managed to ground out. Disdain is plain in his face.

"M'lady," Sandor said softly.

"Well then, shall we move on in our city tour? Or mayhaps you want to inspect common swords from the local smithy?" Tyrion asked.

"I must admit that I have little experience with Westeros-style swords," Swordheart answered. "Seeing them first-hand would prove interesting."

"I don't mind. Better bear it now than to hear no end of this later from Sir Swordbrain," Suzutsuki added.

"Well follow me and the good Sers, then," Tyrion replied. "I imagine The Hound would have a need for a new sword after yesterday's… display."

"I deeply apologize for sundering your sword," Swordheart bowed to Sandor.

"Ah, apologies are unnecessary, Ser. It is not a heirloom or anything," Sandor replied. "Besides, Lord Tywin would not be convinced with a lesser display."

"I see," Swordheart nodded in her reply.

"Are every woman of House Kirino like you?" Sarsfield asked snidely as they neared the smiths.

"Not really. My skills are next to none because I am the… what do you call it around here? Master-at-arms?" Swordheart replied. "Chief retainer, in my House."

"Is that so," Sandor cut in before Sarsfield can drive the wedge deeper. "I see you carry two swords with you, Ser Swordheart. Are you perhaps skilled in wielding two swords?"

"My chief discipline in armed combat is the sword, yes," Swordheart said as they neared the blacksmith quarters. "But I am equally skilled in wielding spears and bows as well. To a lesser extent, I am skilled in hand-to-hand combat and ambush warfare."

"Your husband must be fond of your… swordplay," Sarsfield japed.

"The sword is my father and mother, my husband and sons… such is an adage about the life of Swordhearts," Swordheart replied neutrally.

"A plural noun," Tyrion noted. "Is the position hereditary, Ser Swordheart?"

"No, we are selected into office and there is only one Swordheart sworn to the liege at any given time," the female knight answered the question. "Martial artists of many stripes submit themselves to the selection process when it's opened, and there would be trials before a Swordheart is sworn to the liege's service… or at least it used to. Only two suitable candidates remained at the last time a Swordheart needs to be elected."

"I see… a little like the Kingsguard, I think," the lordling further asked. "Only more complicated. With the Kingsguard, you practically only need the approval of the Lord Commander and the king."

"I suppose so," Swordheart replied as the five of them entered one of the shops.

"Good morning, Sers," the blacksmith on duty greeted as Sarsfield stepped forward of the group. "What might I do for you today?"

"My sword got a notch. Small, but I don't want it to become any larger," Sarsfield said as he unsheathed his sword.

"Ah, yes… I can see which you refer to," the blacksmith said before examining Sarsfield's blade further with a few small tools. "It seemed that the notch doesn't affect the core of the blade. I can smooth it out for you for… say, fifty pennies?"

"Hmm, fair enough I guess," Sarsfield replied. "Can I have my sword back before supper?"

"Somewhen after lunch is more likely. Check again later," the blacksmith said. "And you, Ser Hound? Getting a new sword after yesterday?"

"I became the talk of the town overnight, huh," Sandor replied with a chuckle.

"Aye. The thought of a sword being sundered inside its scabbard is pretty scary," the blacksmith said. "Scarier still that a woman did it, they say…"

"That is the scary woman actually," Sandor grunted while gesturing to the ponytailed lady. The blacksmith's sudden flinch was almost comical. "But anyway, what can you get me for twenty silver moons?"

"B-best I can forge, obviously," the blacksmith said nervously as Swordheart walked around the showroom area, marveling on some of the display pieces.

"How long would it take?" Sandor asked the smith.

"Three, maybe four days," the smith replied.

"Alright," Sandor said, weighing his coin purse before handing over the requisite payment.

"Goodman, might I ask if you can make practice blades, too?" Swordheart asked the smith after Sandor affirmed his choice.

"Y-yes Ser? O-of course Ser," the smith stuttered in his reply.

"I require a practice blade in the style of mine," the foreign warrior said as she slipped one of her blades out of her belt. Sarsfield and Sandor leaned in curiously, as Tyrion did. "The Lord has just received his new blade and since the blade of our forging is evidently the only one of its kind around here, he would certainly need several duller blades to safely practice on."

"Is that so… Shall I take measure of the blade first?" the smith said, his tone much less strained now.

"The measurement need not be perfect, though the base of Lord Tywin's blade is about half a finger wider than mine," Swordheart said as she unsheathed her sword.

"Valyrian steel…" Sarsfield mumbled as the smith measured the naked blade on the table. "A family heirloom, I presume?"

"Shiroge and its sister-blade Kuroki was forged as I ascend to the post of Swordheart," Swordheart said as she tapped the black-sheathed blade on her waist. "They are seven years old."

"So you're saying that your house can smith Valyrian steel arms?" Tyrion said as Swordheart slipped the sword with the white scabbard back into her belt. "Your liege should be prepared for a torrent of requests, then. Especially when she gave my father a rather generous price."

"I cannot say for sure that our blades match the strength of a true Valyrian steel blade," the retainer quipped. "Not unless there's one I can sunder in a great hall somewhere."

"Oh, that's a good one!" Tyrion said after a bout of laughter he shared with Suzutsuki. Even Sarsfield and Sandor let out a chortle. "That would be tantamount to cutting the whole House's worth of cocks!"

"Goodman, when can I expect the practice blades to be done?" Swordheart turned to the blacksmith. "I imagine three would cover enough for practice purposes."

"Perhaps the same time with Ser Hound's blade," the blacksmith replied.

"As for the cost…" Swordheart said.

"I shall pay them," Tyrion cuts the warrior woman before she was done. "I imagine it would not cost overmuch."

"Two stags apiece is a fair price, milord," the smith said. "This is a bit of a challenge for me, really."

"Six stags for three blades. Less fortune for the alehouse today, I guess," the lordling quipped as he reached into his coin purse for the requisite amount.

* * *

…

* * *

"How fare your councils, Hamakaze?" the brown-haired form of Amaha Kirino asked. There was only her and Hamakaze in the white room today.

"It's interesting. Lord Tywin is a very hard worker for a medieval man pushing fifty," Hamakaze replied, sipping on a cup of tea. "His governance could be harsh at times, but he is mostly a fair man."

"Mostly?" Amaha asked with a curious lilt after she sipped her own tea.

"Mostly. Lord Tywin did favor a few houses, and in return they show almost fanatical devotion to him," Hamakaze said. "House Crakehall, House Brax, House Clegane. Gregor Clegane is practically his main enforcer, while Sandor Clegane is his squire."

"What about the other Lannisters?" the taller lady asked.

"Kevan Lannister is the right hand man, highly capable administrator in his own right but mostly defer to Tywin," the short-haired lady answered. "Gerion Lannister attends court sometimes, but spends the bulk of his time either having fun or penning his memoir's manuscript. Genna Frey, nee Lannister, plays the lady of the house. She could be quite overbearing, but she cares for the house in her womanly ways. Stafford Lannister is Tywin's brother-in-law, house knight, and the house's main military authority in campaigns if Tywin or Kevan is unavailable. A little rash in conduct, but a competent commander. There are several other cadet branch members but they're the serious players."

"How about our intended, then?" Amaha asked, her body leaning to the front.

"Tyrion Lannister is… a bookish person, I'd say," Hamakaze replied. "Maester Creylen complained about books going missing from the library, but also impressed at Tyrion's width of knowledge. He also contributes to the courts he attended, although his suggestions are often worded rather poorly."

"Poorly?" Amaha said, more a curiosity than a question.

"That is what I assume to have happened. I find his explanations quite simple and clear," the council envoy said. "Lord Tywin, however, is more often offended and shuts him up in most occasions."

"How often does he offers his viewpoints?" Amaha asked.

"Fairly often, when he attended court sober that is. He is also quite the alcoholic, but it's understandable given how these people treat their water," Hamakaze replied, her hand on her chin. "There's also this reputation of his on being a womanizer... I've heard that he would go whoring every night, but I think he's scaling back. He's been present in the castle about four nights out of seven now."

"Ah, wiretapping the castle," Amaha said. "How far are you along?"

"About sixty to seventy percent of the rooms and alleyways of Casterly Rock has been seeded with nanomachines. Listening points has been set up in important rooms, and a signal antenna has been set up on the highest point of the castle, disguised in a flagpole," Hamakaze replied. "People are starting to talk about my uncanny ability of not getting lost. I need to get lost once in a while."

"Ask for our intended to guide you around, he took Suzutsuki and Yahagi to town today," the elder woman teased. "Who knows, he might choose you."

"How are we going to respond to Tywin's proposal?" Hamakaze asked. "We'll go through the motions of course, but some heads-up will be appreciated."

"We'll probably submit a few names for them, just to simplify the process. Expect your name in it," Amaha answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lannisport in this fic is about three-four hours wagon ride from Casterly Rock, so day trips are perfectly possible. A few articles in the internet pointed out that the canon distance between the two is about a day's ride or more, but I elected for it to be shorter in this fic. In essence, this makes Lannisport to be Casterly Rock's castle-town.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which lions ate their fill of seaweed.

Suzutsuki yawned as she pulled her human body up. The time reckoning sent from I-400 said that it was just after sunrise, and it suited her just fine. Stretching and cracking her knuckles, she mentally reviewed her schedule for the day.

"Hmm. I guess the review for the goods to be transported to the Yamato is today," the brunette grunted as a knock sounded on her door. "Enter, I'm decent."

"Good morning, milady. I bring you water for ablutions," a robust serving girl said as she opened the door, a pail of what looked like hot water in front of her.

"Oh, _o-kei_. Just put it somewhere I guess," Suzutsuki said. There were some silence as the maid poured the water and took care of the chamberpot.

"Will you need something else, milady?" The maid asked, her duties done. "I am to serve you for the remainder of your stay."

"Not really…" Suzutsuki replied unsurely. "Say, where do you cook food around here?"

"The kitchens are not far from the docks milady, a level over it. I can take you there if you wish, I have a sister working as an assistant cook," the maid answered the question. "Is there a delicacy you particularly desire? We have the finest cooks in the Westerlands."

"Not so much wanting to eat as I want to go cook," Suzutsuki said as she walked to the basin to wash her face. "I'm getting restless so far from home and maybe some old Nihon dish will do me and my kin good…"

"Is that so…" the maid said a little unsurely. "I can't pretend to know such a dish, milady. But the cooks might…?"

"Mm, I think I'll go fishing after I'm done with my duties today," Suzutsuki said after drying her face, mostly to herself. "Can I ask for you to arrange something with your sister?"

"I can, milady," the maid answered.

"I need her to arrange for a cooking space, utensils, and some ingredients," the foreign lady said. "I would need sugar… basic spices… maybe honey. Do you make thickened sugar water around here?"

"I don't rightly know milady, but I'll ask her," the maid said.

"Good. What's your name?" Suzutsuki said as she donned her trousers. "And your sister too, for that matter."

"I am called Calla, and my sister Daisy," the servant said.

"Alright. I'll be in the kitchens by afternoon," Suzutsuki said.

* * *

…

* * *

"Well, that is all," Kevan Lannister said, the homely man finished with the checklist. A few medium-sized chests lay open in that particular room near the treasury, riches of Casterly Rock soon transferred to the hands of House Kirino.

"This could be the heaviest load I ever took on my boat," Suzutsuki replied. "Almost double the load I took going here. Lannisters sure doesn't do things by half-measures."

"It's almost a house word in itself," Kevan replied, a hint of a chuckle in his words. "Lannisters always paid their debts. What could be more precious than our little brother's life, I wonder."

"Too true, too true. Lady Yamato would have brought down the full wrath of our house's might should anyone try to mess with any one of us," Suzutsuki agreed. "Well now that all the things are rounded up, all that's left to do is pack them and load them. I suggest using stackable flat-topped chests and packing the less valuable things into wicker baskets, my lord. It'll save every last pound there needs to be saved."

"Good idea, lady. I will be sure to inform my men," Kevan replied. "Tomorrow they can sort and pack, and load in the evening. You can leave the day after tomorrow."

"Well then, I guess I'll have the rest of the day free," Suzutsuki said. "Although rations should be packed the night before I depart, which is not that day."

"Oh, are you staying a little longer? Is there anything in your mind?" Kevan asked.

"I'm thinking of cooking a few simple Nihon dishes, so I'll need a day or three to prepare. Today I'm thinking of going for a walk around the coastline, forage for some ingredients," the lithe navigator said. "No offense meant, Ser Kevan. The meals has been nothing but delicious, but I'm fairly sure Hamakaze's stomach is feeling homesick right about now."

"None taken, Lady Suzutsuki. Would you need a few men to help you?" Kevan offered.

"Someone with knowledge of the local coastline will be useful," the navigator said. "Perhaps a rowboat, too. I have told to a maid to arrange for other ingredients and utensils with the kitchen."

"Very well, let Merwyn here escort you to the harbormaster and help you afterwards. Surely the man knows who's suitable," Kevan said to a nearby guardsman, who nodded. "I look forward to your cuisine, then!"

"I… will try to collect enough for everyone, Ser Kevan," Suzutsuki replied, her grin a little sheepish. "Well then, goodman, shall we be off?"

"At once, milady," Merwyn said.

* * *

…

* * *

"Lady Suzutsuki of House Kirino!"

The inhabitants of the Lord's solar perked up as the guards posted outside announced the arrival of an unexpected guest. The usual heavy atmosphere in the room were momentarily dispelled as sheafs of paper were set aside.

"Enter!" Tywin said before the door swung open. Suzutsuki then marched inside, a wide tray in hand laden with food.

"Good afternoon, my lords and lady," Suzutsuki said with a smile as Hamakaze's eyes widen. "A small selection of Nihon delicacies for an afternoon snack."

"Suzutsuki, you…" Hamakaze said as she stood, helping the brunette laying the dishes on a table.

"Hey, I can make yokan and anko competently at least," Suzutsuki replied.

"I see you have made good on your promises a few days ago, Lady Suzutsuki," Kevan said with a smile. "And I must confess that I haven't seen these delicacies before. Like this… milky drop-shaped thing here."

"The dish is a sweet pudding called mizu yokan, my lords," Hamakaze took to explaining things as Suzutsuki served three portions on saucers. "Rather… less refined than I am accustomed to back in our fleet, but Shiomaru's cooking skill is something my kin here cannot hope to match."

"I see. How about these purplish squares?" Kevan asked again.

"A variation of the yokan theme, it is made with the same base ingredients but mixed with anko, which is a sort of sweet bean paste," Hamakaze explained. "Is it plain or…?"

"The kitchens have almonds," Suzutsuki added. "I chopped some and put it in."

"This is a familiar one," Tywin remarked, pointing to an ordinary-looking pastry beside the two exotic dishes.

"Filled with anko, my lord," Suzutsuki pointed out as she handed the saucer to the Lord Paramount. The three then proceeded to eat.

"This…" Tywin mouthed after he swallowed the pastry, his eyes widening slightly.

"A highly unique flavor. What is this pudding made of, I wonder," Kevan remarked as he finished swallowing a small helping of the square jelly before turning to see his brother's expression. "Tywin, is the taste not to your liking?"

"Ah… no. It is adequate, I was in a loss for words to describe this new delicacy," Tywin replied swiftly, his expression schooled back to neutral.

"Glad to see you liking it, my lords," Suzutsuki said. "And to answer your question Ser Kevan, the pudding is made from kelp and seaweed foraged from the shores. My first intention was only cooking the pudding, but I saw beans being prepared in the kitchen and decided to make anko too."

"Remarkable. I never thought that the sea can yield such a bounty," Kevan said. "Kelp and seaweed are rarely eaten here in general."

"The kitchen staff had prepared a lot more of the delicacies and they will be served in supper tonight pending your approval, Lord Tywin," Suzutsuki said. Hamakaze made a happy noise as she glomped her cousin.

"Guards!" Tywin barked. A guardsman entered the room promptly.

"Yes, milord?" the guardsman said.

"Tell the cooks in the kitchen that they are to serve the new delicacies with my full approval," the lord said.

"At once, milord," the guardsman said before excusing himself and closing the door.

"Has Lady Genna been notified?" Kevan asked.

"Lady Genna was present in the kitchens when I was cooking, Ser Kevan. She said that she heard what I was up to the day after we counted the inventory to be loaded to my boat," Suzutsuki answered. "She had the first taste, but she has some corrections. These are the second batch."

"The fact that you are able to serve this at all is high praise," Kevan said, chuckling.

"I thought so," Suzutsuki said. "Let these be my parting gift to Casterly Rock, then. I plan to depart with the tides tomorrow morning, my lords."

"What a gift to give," Kevan said. "Godspeed and may The Seven be with you, Lady Suzutsuki."

"Go with our blessings," Tywin added. "Why, I am even tempted to add to your cargo."

"Please don't, Lord Tywin. The boat will sink due to overcapacity," Suzutsuki said with a sheepish smile. "If that is all my lords, I shall be off to arrange the loading of food supplies and freshwater."

"You are excused, Lady Suzutsuki," Tywin said. "Kevan, Lady Hamakaze, I shall join you at supper tonight. Send for a maid to clean these utensils up later."

"Understood, brother," Kevan said as he stood, having finished his snack. The three nobles then proceed to exit the solar. Hamakaze threw a brief puzzled gaze, but followed.

"I am… confused, Ser Kevan," Hamakaze said as they made their way through the halls. The little entourage was some distance away from the lord's solar. "We haven't finished the budget reviews we are set to do today."

"I doubt we can continue working on that, Lady Hamakaze. My brother… has been overcome with emotion," Kevan said, his tone soft. "His late wife, Lady Johanna, was fond of sweets and pastries."

"Ah… I see. A bittersweet coincidence?" Hamakaze asked, more to herself than to others.

"Perhaps. Was cooking the pastries in your original plans, Lady Suzutsuki?" Kevan said.

"Not really. It was Lady Genna's suggestion after seeing the bean paste," Suzutsuki replied. "In the fleet, anko could be eaten as it is, though it is used in stuffings too."

"Ah, it all makes sense now," Kevan said before chuckling.

* * *

…

* * *

"Making their way to their hearts via their stomach, Suzutsuki?" Yamato said in the white room, Suzutsuki across the garden table.

"You are partly responsible, Fleet Flagship," Suzutsuki replied. "The route for tomorrow's departure has been set."

"Rendezvous point has been set, about two days' sailing off the bay," another voice said. "Once the catamaran is stowed, we will make all haste to your designated rendezvous point."

"Estimated time of arrival, 400?" the flagship asked.

"Eighty hours," the third person said. "Sub-drones has set up a cordon of the area and ready to sink stragglers."

"Excellent. How much currency can we expect, Suzu?" Yamato said.

"Enough to buy your way to a small fiefdom, I was told," Suzutsuki said. "Around five thousand coins each with the silver coins being Moons, the second highest denomination after the gold Dragon coins. The iron ingots adds up to a little under a third of a ton."

"Nice. Have you spared some for Hamakaze and Yahagi?" Yamato said.

"I managed to stash a hundred each. Yahagi are holding on to them as we speak," the navigator replied. "We are given some stipend whenever we go out of the castle, though."

"It's good to have contingencies," Yamato commented. "Let's proceed with the plans, then."

* * *

…

* * *

Supper was just winding to a close in Casterly Rock's dining hall when servants rolled out a last serving of desserts. There was some murmurs of surprise, but Genna, Kevan, and Tywin just nodded in satisfaction.

"These new dishes are specialties of Nihon, the homeland of our guests. The recipe is a gift to us from Lady Suzutsuki, who will sail out in the morning," Tywin announced from the lord's table. A round of cheers then sounded as a toast was raised.

"Never have I thought that I would taste a dish from a sunken island…" Tyrion said as he jabbed his portion of mizu yokan with curiosity in his eyes. "I didn't know you cook, Lady Suzutsuki."

"Simple dishes made from seaweed, pasted beans, wine, and ingenuity, Lord Tyrion," Suzutsuki said with a smile. "Dig in, before the ravenous form of my cousin devour us off the table."

The two shared a laugh as they gazed to Hamakaze's form, her form radiating happiness so thick it's contagious. Gerion, the merry lion that he is, was laughing almost nonstop.

"By The Seven… this… this is out of this world. I'm at a loss of words, my lady," Tyrion said after he swallowed his helping of mizu yokan. "Those roe-like spheres… they taste like Arbor Gold!"

"If my basic skills can impress you this far, I fear for your life when you meet my cousin Shiomaru. She'll wrap you around her finger with half my effort," Suzutsuki replied. "And to answer your question, it is Arbor Gold encased in jelly. An innovation of my cousins Shiomaru and Hyuuga."

"Marvelous. Simply marvelous. I look forward to the day I will meet them, truly," Tyrion said. "Please tell them Tyrion Lannister tasted heaven from their innovations tonight."

"Will do, Lord Tyrion," Suzutsuki said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
> \- All the dishes are actual dishes, but the 'mizu yokan' is actually closer to something called sakura kanten.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a few guardsmen were driven mad with the revelation. Maybe.

The morning sun has just scarcely broken the horizon that day. The practice fields was located just off the Lion's Mouth, and a barrack stood to the side. Most of the Lannisters' household guards not on duty slept still, except for a foreign individual. Dressed in indigo and white, the retainer from a foreign land ran laps around the field.

"Halt, stranger!" a man in light leather bellowed as she got past him. "Who goes?"

"Excuse me, Ser. I am a guest of the castle," Swordheart replied as she stopped and jogged to the man.

"Ah, I see… you must be that foreigner swordsman," the man said, realization dawning in him.

"That I am. I merely use the fields to warm up and practice my craft," Swordheart said. "I apologize if I was… disruptive."

"I wouldn't say that you're being disruptive, the field is empty. Just… be sure to let the guards know if you're practicing early," the older man admonished. "I am Ser Benedict Broom, the castle's master-at-arms."

"Well met, Ser. I am Swordheart, the _samurai_... well, warrior in employ of House Kirino," Swordheart replied with a bow.

"The Sunderer, they call you in the halls," Broom said with a smile on his face. "Not a fortnight and you're already making a name for yourself."

"Such is the power of the lord's sword," Swordheart said in an effort to be humble.

"A master-crafted sword means nothing in the hands of the clumsy," Broom replied. "Carry on with your business, then. The hall over there serves food a bit over half an hour from now."

"I see. Thank you for your consideration," Swordheart said, and continued her run.

* * *

…

* * *

Benedict Broom can't quite lay a finger on how high the guest has her abilities. The foreign knight has joined him for breakfast in the hall adjacent to the training grounds, with a little sheen of sweat to mark an exertion of running a few laps around the training grounds. The two talked a little over stew and sweet rolls, with the woman expressing interest on joining on his drills. The next few hours he spent instructing the squires and armsmen on their daily training.

There was a hush of murmurings as he called a break amongst the younger squires' drill training.

"What are you people mummering about?" Broom said to a clump of younger redcloaks sitting to the side.

"That, actually," one of the armsmen said, pointing to Swordheart swinging a stick like a sword. "That lady knight has been swinging a quarterstaff like that for some time now."

"You'd thought that she would use it like a staff would instead of a sword," another armsmen said.

"It is a weird way to use a sword," Broom said. "Maybe she's just training for a greatsword."

"I think I'm gonna show him," one of the armsmen, a brown-haired lad, said.

"Whoo, that's our man Lyle!" his friends cheered.

"Oh boy," Broom grumbled as the armsman approached the swinging girl.

"Excuse me, Ser?" Lyle the lad said, a few paces from Swordheart.

"Yes?" Swordheart said, stopping her motions.

"I believe you use a quarterstaff the wrong way," he said with a swagger in his tone. "Would you like me to show you how?"

Raucous laughter sounded as soon as Lyle finished his sentence.

"You… wish to show me how," Swordheart said neutrally. "A spar is what you truly seek, is it?"

"I see no better way to do so," Lyle said.

"I suppose. Who will be the… umpire?" Swordheart asked.

"I'll be your arbiter," Broom stepped forward. "Please don't kill my soldier?"

"Of course not, Ser," Swordheart said, smiling slightly.

"Alright you two, ten paces apart facing each other. That much is enough Ser Swordheart," Broom said as the other armsmen gathered around the two combatants in a crude circle. "Land three clean hits and you win. Go!"

Two combatants circled each other amidst the low murmur and occasional jeers. Lyle's cocky grin hasn't left him, yet Swordheart's face was calm. With a yell, Lyle dived in with a diagonal swing. Swordheart deftly dodged to the side as momentum propelled Lyle on for a few steps.

"I am now in the perfect position to relieve young Lyle here from his hands," Swordheart announced in a neutral tone, before poking him lightly on the scapula as he goes on. The jeers stopped dead. "And the overextension opens even more avenue to attack. Was that a clean hit, Ser Broom?"

"Clean as polished marble, I say," Broom replied with an amused tone.

"As for anyone wondering why I treated this staff as a sword, it is because my teacher taught me of a sword about this long," the lady knight said to the captive crowd. "It was used by olden warriors to cleave rider and horse in one swing. Another pass, young Lyle?"

"I'll wipe that smug grin off your face," Lyle grunted angrily, before yelling as he pounced. His movements are less wasteful now, and his tighter swings forced Swordheart back a few steps.

"Ah, better. Always use the smallest possible swing," Swordheart replied, before taking a large step back. A split-second later she pounced quickly and landed a firm knock on Lyle's forearm, nearly causing the lad to lose grip to his practice sword. "Again, you have been unhanded, young Lyle."

"Second clean hit," Broom announced.

"Grrrraaa!" Lyle bellowed angrily, swinging his training sword wildly. Swordheart dodged his strikes handily, waiting for the young armsman to tire. Sure enough, the enraged armsman found himself stopping after a bout of swings.

"Ah, the hot blood of youth," the foreign swordsman said, lifting her sword-surrogate on her shoulder with her arm holding it crossed. "Maybe if I let you see this technique, you shall take heart on your studies. Be ready now, young one."

Then she _**moved**_.

"Hiken," the woman said, a slight smile on her lips as Lyle fell to his haunches. "Tsubame-gaeshi."

"I… don't quite know what happened, but Ser Swordheart wins the bout," the umpire said, to which Swordheart bowed. The excitement for the day done, the armsmen dispersed to either resume their training or get a midday snack save for a few of Lyle's friends flocking around him.

"S-she hit me thrice…" Lyle said haltingly.

"Of course she hit you thrice, she won the bout!" one of his fellow armsmen japed.

"No… not in the entire bout. She hit me thrice in that last pass alone…" Lyle said as he groggily got up on his feet. "I felt it on my knuckles, left side, and right knee… I swear! I know I felt it!

"…But didn't that woman hit you in the knee?" One of the friends said. "I saw that downward slash."

"I… saw her hit Lyle's wrist with an overhead chop," another said. "Your eyes need checking, Andros!"

"Bollocks, Tybolt!" yet another said. "I saw her hit Lyle's side! I know my eyes!"

"Then… how?" Tybolt said, scratching his head as others eyed the woman exchanging her quarterstaff for a blunted spear. "That's… bollocks, how could three men sitting side-by-side saw different things happening?"

"…Witchery?" Andros said unsurely.

"Witchery it is," Lyle grunted.

* * *

…

* * *

"Yahagi, I thought quantic manipulations are forbidden," Yamato groused as the two convened in the white room.

"Sorry, I need to establish myself as the great knight of our house and a formidable fighter," Yahagi replied as she played with her ponytail. "Since reason came so sparingly, I suppose a single application won't be too gaudy."

"Well it's not that we don't have any more hidden cards at this stage," the fleet flagship sighed. "I just don't want to reveal too much. Especially where Tyrion Lannister can get involved."

"A question, Fleet Flagship," Yahagi said. "Why did we start this… infiltration? What does the Admiralty Code say?"

"I wish I could answer the latter question. The Admiralty Code has been silent after the brief appearance aboard Maya last year, and now after our spatial jaunt I'm not even sure if she existed separately from us or if she's merely a safeguard built within every one of us," Yamato said after a sigh. "The answer to the first question is partly an experiment to answer the second."

"Is that so…" Yahagi said. "You want to know if the Primary Combat Directives apply to Mental Models or not, huh…?"

"That's the gist of it," Yamato said. "Now, is there any place you can go to test it?"

"From what I had heard from Hamakaze, Westerlands is quite a safe place to live especially after Tywin goes back after his stint as the king's prime minister," Yahagi said. "Bandits and highwaymen has mostly been relegated to remote places and borders, while urban crime is mostly of the white collar kind."

"Hmm. I suppose you could ask to be included in patrols sometimes," the fleet flagship said. "If he is indeed tough on crime, there should be plenty of crime bosses hiring catpaws and goons."

"I'll see If I can talk with the captain of the guard on that," Yahagi said.

* * *

…

* * *

Afternoons in Tywin Lannister's solar were quiet. Work with the ruler of The Westerlands were almost always long in hours, and scarce indeed are those who can withstand it. The few who could were surprised that a new lady has added herself to the mix.

"Have you checked the tax reports from the areas surrounding the former Castamere?" Tywin said, breaking a half-hour of silence.

"I have, my lord," Hamakaze replied.

"What can you tell me?" the Westerland ruler asked.

"The numbers don't match perfectly. It seems that the city mayor has been taking more than he should under the guise of unexpected expenditures," Hamakaze said. "No more than ten golden dragons at a time in a few piles of a thousand, and easy to overlook if one is not careful."

"…Passable. The sheaf I gave you was one from three years ago," the ruler said in an appraising tone. "My imp of a son rooted it out faster than you."

"I see," the grey-haired young lady said. "I assume you will pose harder tests from now on, my lord?"

"Perhaps," Tywin said after a sigh. "I will not tell you when."

"I would not have it any other way, my lord," Hamakaze said with a smile.

"Supper would be in a half-hour," the Warden of The West said. "You are excused."

"Thank you, my lord," Hamakaze said as she flexes her wrists. "Will you join us in the hall?"

"We shall see," Tywin replied with a dismissive tone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> \- Yes, that is how I think FSN's Tsubamegaeshi work when seen by bystanders.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which tales were told.

"Do you require my presence, brother?" Gerion said as he entered the study of his eldest brother, his name just announced by the guard posted.

"Yes, Gerion. Have a seat," Tywin gestured to a nearby chair. "I would like to know more about the members of this so-called House Kirino of The Smoking Sea."

"For the betrothal contract, I imagine," Gerion replied.

"I'm at my wit's end about that imp of my son. So many lords have the gall to scoff at the proposals," the partriarch grumbled. "And to make it worse, not a single day he spent away from those brothels. Disgraceful."

"My nephew is a lively fellow who knows how to have fun, I see," Gerion said.

"We are getting distracted, Gerion," Tywin replied. "House Kirino."

"Ah yes, House Kirino. Their partriarch had died recently, the last one of their older generation. Fourteen core members in three branches of the family remain, all of them ladies between the ages of five-and-ten to seven-and-twenty," Gerion explained. "The current ruling matriarch's name is Lady Yamato Kirino, and she has a twin sister named Lady Amaha Kirino who functions a little like the Hand of The King. They're co-rulers really."

"That sounds convenient," the partriarch said, rubbling his chin. "Are they the eldest ones?"

"You'd never know what happened in that Seven-damned fog," Gerion retorted. "Anyways, Lady Yamato and Lady Amaha are three-and-twenty years old, not the oldest among the siblings. The oldest is their cousin Lady Hyuuga Kirino, the woman who forged your sword. She functions as the maester of the house, alongside her sisters Lady Akashi, Lady Shiomaru, and Lady Shioni. Marvelous craftsmen all."

"My sword was forged by a woman? Interesting," Tywin remarked. "There are others beside them, I presume?"

"Yes. Lady Hamakaze is the ruling twins' younger sister, and she is ten-and-six years of age," Gerion said. "Lady Suzutsuki, who belongs to the second branch, is the member of their navigators. Beside her, her sister Fuyutsuki and their cousins Shinano and Yukikaze also counts themselves as members of the navigators. Swordheart belongs to the last cadet branch, and she has three sisters, Kasumi, Owari, and Hatsushimo."

"That leaves us with… many options, actually. Who are their youngest?" Tywin asked.

"Fuyutsuki, Yukikaze, and Hatsushimo are all five-and-ten old," Gerion answered. "Inseparable friends. I think Akashi is a little younger, but only by a few months. No more than a year."

"They are unlikely to enter the equation, then," Tywin remarked. "That still leaves us with eleven prospective brides."

"It's more likely for them to limit our options," Gerion said. "They might put forward some of their older ladies' name to us."

"Do you think Lady Yamato would nominate herself?" the eldest brother said as he leaned back to his chair.

"There's a possibility, but I think it's more likely for her to nominate her twin sister," the youngest countered. "If I were her, I'd gun for the heir of another Lord Paramount to spread the influence."

"Audacious, but likely," Tywin agreed. "Willas Tyrell, perhaps? Renly Baratheon is also possible, if Stannis would keep his wife."

"We could provide avenues for that," Gerion replied.

"A good course for us to follow, but there's still too many things unaccounted for," Tywin said, his eyes drifting to his paperworks again. "Brief him of this, Gerion."

"You should do that, I think,"Gerion replied, a slight note of annoyance in his voice. "After all, I'm just an uncle."

"I have neither the time, disposition, nor patience for it," Tywin countered. "Besides, you have the advantage of firsthand information."

"You're right," Gerion grunted as he stood. "Well, I suppose this night is as good as any."

* * *

…

* * *

Tyrion sat on his bed, his lamp providing meager lighting for him to read _Deeds of The Kingsguard_. The author Maester Simeon was a skeptic of the institution, leading him to propose many unpopular theories about some of the more ridiculous tales ascribed to the Kingsguard.

He has been doing this for quite some time. Sleep doesn't come easily to Tyrion Lannister, and most nights he uses drinks and whores to alleviate the problem.

"Enter," the half-man said after a patterned rap sounded on his door. He hasn't heard this way of knocking in a few years.

"Hello, nephew," Gerion Lannister said as he opened the door to Tyrion's room. "Your room is bookish like always I see."

"The chairs in the library isn't comfortable for a halfman like me," the halfman said, gesturing his uncle to sit. "Besides, maester Creylen would forbade food and drinks in there. Something about inks and stains I think."

"Ahahaha, just as I thought!" Gerion said, his merry laughter soft.

"Help yourself with the wine, Uncle," Tyrion said. "Particularly good Arbor vintage, that."

"It smells wonderful," the older man said, helping himself to a cup. "Oh yes, this is the stuff."

"Brewed and stored just before you left for Valyria, I think," Tyrion said.

"A little on the fruity side," the older man said. "Quite different from what they have in the Smoking Sea."

"Oh? they drink too?" Tyrion asked, his tone curious. "What manner of liquor do they have there?"

"Mainly two kinds, sowchoo and sakee," Gerion said, pouring himself another round. "The sakee they made from grains, but they make showchuu from roots, Tyrion. How about that for weird drinks, hahaha!"

"Roots? You mean carrot and the likes?" Tyrion pressed his inquiry, _Deeds of The Kingsguard_ laying forgotten beside him.

"Mm, they're a good deal more starchy compared to carrots," Gerion said before taking a sip. "They name the root 'sweet potato'. I asked if there's a bitter potato somewhere, and they said the name is 'manioku'."

"They sound like an interesting bunch," Tyrion idly noted.

"Oh, they are," Gerion said. "I ate raw fish with them. One of the best dishes I ever tasted."

"And exactly how are you still living, Uncle?" Tyrion said before letting out a laugh. "You should be shitting worms!"

"I don't know! The fish bit my face on the way up, and I gave it payback! Lannisters and debts, I say!" Gerion replied, laughing all the same.

"Poor, poor fish," Tyrion said in mock sadness. "At least it served a purpose!"

"Oh… I really missed you, nephew," Gerion said as he poured himself another glass. "Thank you for looking out for Joy. Sweet sweet child…"

"It's the least I can do after Briony departed a year ago, Uncle," Tyrion said, drinking deep from his own goblet. "Wanda from the kitchens is a good mother, and she knows Briony too. Joy is in good hands."

"So I heard… and you, Tyrion. You'll be married soon, to a House from abroad, none the less!" Gerion said, his cup empty.

"Yeah, no matter I like it or not," Tyrion groused, his good mood receding.

"You'll like them, I guarantee it! Intelligence is highly valued there," Gerion said, evidently rather tipsy. "The maester of them, Lady Hyuuga… oh my nephew, it's like she has three heads!"

"I… don't follow, uncle. Is she… that intelligent or something?" Tyrion asked, slightly puzzled.

"Her tits, Tyrion, by The Seven! It's surely almost as big as her actual head!" Gerion managed to blurt out before laughing uproariously. Evidently, the laugh is highly contagious as both men laughed uncontrollably for a good while.

"So… what of other notable ladies, Uncle?" the short man said as laughter subsided.

"There's the ruling twins," Gerion said after a sip to steady his laugh-shaken nerves. "Yamato Kirino and Amaha Kirino. Both has regal bearings, slightly taller than lady Hyuuga and with intelligence to match. Pretty much indistinguishable outside the fact that Lady Yamato's hair is deep black while Lady Amaha is light brown. Oh and their legs, Tyrion. You can bridge Dragonstone and Driftmark with them, they're that long."

"I wouldn't dream of marrying them, I guess. I'd look even shorter than I am now," Tyrion let out a self-deprecating jape.

"Swordheart aren't that tall, though. She's a farther cousin to the twins," Gerion said.

"Oh Seven Hells, no," Tyrion gasped in mock-scandalized tone. "She'll sunder my cock once I so much smell like the scent of brothels."

"Don't forget, she did slay a kraken with a single blow," Gerion said. "We ate that accursed thing for damn near a month."

"Woe if we did marry and ever have a household dispute," Tyrion groused.

"Lady Hamakaze is quite the catch though," Gerion said after a sip. "She's still young, but has the makings of a great noble lady. Not so tall, too. Also a very good amount of tits for her age."

"I've sat with her when Father held court a few days ago. A bit pensive, but that cunning twinkle in her eyes is unmistakable," Tyrion said, pensive. "I might just go for her."

"It's a flower island out there, Tyrion," Gerion said. "Fifteen of them, beautiful ladies all. You know what? I might as well get one of them. One of the older ones maybe."

"Better you than me, I guess," Tyrion mumbled. A belly full of wine is no good friend of wakefulness.

"But still, after you," the uncle said as he got up. "I think I had enough for tonight. Night, Tyrion."

"Goodnight, Uncle," Tyrion replied. Sleep would claim him mere minutes after.

* * *

…

* * *

"The dice has been rolled, eh," Shinano commented as she waved the light-panel of the recording off her sight. "How did they call it? Area… jacta esu?"

"This much is expected, really," Yamato said neutrally. "How about our combat readiness?"

"Our fleet is fully operational, stocked fitted and awaiting further orders," Shinano replied. "The hulls of Yahagi and Hamakaze lies dormant on the Gulf of Caster awaiting reactivation, maintained by I-402 in place of 400."

"How long until Suzutsuki comes with our ransom?" the fleet flagship asked.

"Sometime next morning. Would you want a meeting to convene?" Shinano replied.

"That'll be preferable, yes. We need to decide what we will do with the gold the Lannisters' gave us~" Yamato replied in a sing-song voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Regarding Sers and Dames (originally pointed out at ffn by an anonymous guest in a review), I feel that calling a warrior lady 'Ser' wouldn't be all that far-fetched. One, there hasn't been any precedent of a Westerosi woman actually considered a knight (neither can a woman be a 'formal' samurai, but Yamato improvised in telling the Westerosi), but woman warriors aren't exactly nonexistent either (I think the canon example for the time period would be Maege Mormont; this is before Brienne and Dacey become well-known). Plus, Suzutsuki did call Yahagi 'Sir Swordbrain' in chapter 4 in front of Tyrion, Sandor, and Sarsfield so I guess they all sort of followed suit.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a lion hones his fang as another watches.

The morning was cool and cloudy that day, but the promise of rain hasn't dissuaded most of the household armsmen to abandon their lot of the day's training. In the midst of the activities of the day, a woman stood tall, doing her repetitions with a newly-made replica sword. Unlike her first day, men give her a respectable distance. Some pages with nothing better to do even stood by her sidelines to watch.

"Ser Swordheart," a stern voice greeted her from behind. "Starting rather late, I see?"

"Ser Broom," the bodyguard from faraway land said as she stopped her repetitions. "Just doing my usual repetitions while waiting for Lord Tywin to arrive."

"Your repetitions are quite harsh," the older knight remarked. "A series of three hundred swings each, I believe?"

"Three hundred helm-strikes, three hundred stomach-strikes, three hundred thrusts," Swordheart answered the question. "A daily exercise ascribed to me by my teacher, the former Swordheart."

"I'm not sure if I am to be appalled by the harshness of your regimen or awed by your devotion to it," Broom replied. "But by now I see where all your power stem from. My boys and their squires would do well if they can follow half… nay, a third of your daily routine. That's not even counting your afternoon hand-to-hand fighting sessions."

"You are too kind, Ser Broom," Swordheart said amiably.

"Ser Broom, Ser Swordheart," another voice joined them as Tywin Lannister approached them, practice katana on his waist. The assembled pages quietly dispersed. "I believe I am to be coached on the use of Lionfang."

"Lord Tywin," Broom replied while bowing. Swordheart did the same.

"Carry on with the others, Ser Broom," Tywin Lannister said. Broom nodded and mouthed a farewell that Swordheart acknowledged.

"I apologize to have robbed you of your rest day, Lord Tywin," the foreigner said. "For a training that would probably not make a master out of you."

"It is no matter, Ser Swordheart," the old lord said. "If I am to bear Lionfang in battle, at least I can avoid decapitating myself from lack of knowledge."

"We start with the basics of our swordmanship," Swordheart said as she gestured to the practice sword and scabbard on Tywin's waist. "Though first, let me correct you on this. Katana are meant to be worn with its edge upwards to facilitate its drawing, my lord. Seeing that almost all the sword here are straight and double-edged, it is an understandable mistake."

"Is that so," Tywin grunted as he corrected the position of the sword on his waist.

"When you want to draw your sword, you grab it at the handle just before the guard," Swordheart said, guiding through the process. "And hold the scabbard with your left as you draw the edge out, like so."

"This will be rather difficult with a shield," the Lord of Casterly Rock observed as he tried to pull one out of the scabbard the way Swordheart had described.

"True, my lord. We practicioners of the Eastern style usually forgo shields altogether and wear as light armor as it is sensible," the foreign swordsman said. "After you draw your sword, your left hand will hold it near the tip of the handle. This increases the power that you can bring to your blade."

"Understandable, when your swords can cleave and puncture as well as it is," Tywin noted as he is guided to a basic stance.

"This is the basic swordsmanship stance of our system, my lord. A balanced stance, if you will…"

The instruction goes on, well into the heightening of the sun.

* * *

...

* * *

"A field full of men swinging sticks must be a very interesting sight for you, Lady Hamakaze," Tyrion said as he approached the lady sitting on one of the balconies overlooking the proving grounds of Casterly Rock.

"Ah, Lord Tyrion," the grey-haired young lady said as she turned to the short man and smiled. "A pleasant surprise."

"Those after my gold tend to say that," Tyrion grumbled.

"Then perhaps only they can see the wit upon you, my lord," Hamakaze said after a small giggle. "After all, the wise would say that wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure."

"Until I can find a way to measure wit, I'm inclined to say otherwise my lady," the half-man replied.

"Simply stick a ruler to your crotch, my lord," Hamakaze teased lightly. "That ought to tell you how much wit you have, right away."

"My lady! Such crass language coming from you!" Tyrion exclaimed, his tone scandalized and his mouth curled up into the beginning of laughter. "I must instruct you in the etiquettes of Westerosi nobility!"

A few beats of silence reigned after the ensuing shared laughter, as Tyrion seated himself on the ledge of the balcony. Pleasant wind caressed them as they looked at Tywin Lannister getting coached like a squire.

"You know, my father had made his intent known since your reception," Tyrion said as he looked at Swordheart correcting Tywin's overhead slash.

"For one of our own to be wed to you?" the young lady asked.

"Yes. My uncle came to me a few nights ago, talked about a few ladies he met in person while on your House's fortress-ship," Tyrion said.

"Have any of us caught your fancy, then?" Hamakaze asked.

"It's hard to say. I pride myself as an expert of women, but now…" Tyrion started to answer before halting. "I find myself… stopped by the sheer choice I have."

"It's understandable, my lord. To be suddenly given the option of choosing one from fourteen fine ladies can be a paralyzing experience indeed," Hamakaze said after a demure giggle.

"Who would you recommend, my lady?" Tyrion asked, smirking.

"Who knows," came Hamakaze's diplomatic answer. "My friend Suzutsuki is a natural on navigating and sailing, her cousin Shinano is a master fisherman on the other hand. Lady Hyuuga has beautiful body and mind, and cousin Yukikaze always seems to be lucky. Your lord uncle praised Lady Shiomaru's cooking to the heavens and back, but he also appreciated the skill of Lady Shioni's needlework. You'll find peerless warriors, wise minds, deft hands. I cannot bring myself to be partial to anybody, really."

"So I need to just roll the dice?" Tyrion presses the inquiry.

"If you think a dice's roll to be the fairest way to make your decision, then yes. You can choose any one between us and be happy, in its own little way," Hamakaze answered simply. "Even Swordheart, if you so choose. She is our distant cousin after all."

"I'm going to have nightmares of my cock getting sundered in two, no thanks," Tyrion muttered.

"But she will protect her lord husband from anything seeking him harm, right until her dying breath leaves her," Hamakaze countered. "And she can cook and clean, too. Very useful should you be forced to hide among commoners."

"That is… not easy to imagine," Tyrion said. "And I thought their oath to the ruler prevents her from being married?"

"Lady Yamato may release her from her service in exchange to a favor or two, depending on how well you plead your case," Hamakaze said before a giggle. "Most of us are easier to experience than to imagine, my lord."

"Did it really take half a day to get from one end of your fortress-ship to another?" Tyrion broke the short silence after the ensuing laugh.

"Well your uncle was quite weak at the time, so it might have taken him half a day to get from one end to another," Hamakaze said amiably. "The Yamato is about a fifth of a mile from bow end to aft end."

"Longer than several islands and islets I had read about," the short lordling said. "Still, a ship of that size made of steel… it must have been quite an investment."

"It was a last-ditch effort," Hamakaze replied with a sad smile. "Our isles was sinking and Lord Sawanagi thought it was the best solution."

"I thought islands don't sink," Tyrion said. "Not if something in the magnitude of Valyria's Bane wasn't involved."

"I'm not too sure myself, really," Hamakaze replied. "Many of our chronicles are written in the tone of fairy tales. It's difficult to separate what's embellishment from what's fact."

"I'd like to visit your fortress-ship someday," Tyrion mused. "It must be a majestic sight."

"Verily, my lord," Hamakaze replied.

* * *

...

* * *

"Flirting with our intended, I see?" Hyuuga said as she settled herself in the white room.

"We have to know him, one way or another," the destroyer said. "Though I feared that I was too… forward, I guess he likes confident women."

"Careful with him. He seemed to be quite a sharp guy," Hyuuga said. "In another news, I've just connected the new data storage facility to the tactical network. We're now able to access all of the data collected by the Fleet Flagship as a separate entity, thus lightening the load on her processor by around ten percent, and for Shinano around five percent."

"That's huge. I never knew her hosting use up that much storage and processing power," Hamakaze replied.

"The mysteries of the Union Core," Hyuuga said, her lips curling mischievously. "That also means she could put up that extra detail to your anatomy more often now."

"That, huh…" Hamakaze replied.

"We're starting to figure out how to grow a baby semi-naturally, too. Fascinating stuff," Hyuuga said, chuckling a little. "We came across a human population nearby and liberated them of their reproductive cells for experimentation."

"Oh… I wonder if there was a confrontation," Hamakaze remarked.

"Indeed. If Owari was a human, she would have died. The men of the tribe looked at her like hungry wolves and all of a sudden, pounced at her," Hyuuga explained. "Yamato ordered them to be subdued but kept alive. My robots are… let's just say a bit crass, and there were casualties."

"Isn't that against the Prime Combat Directives?" Hamakaze said, leaning to the coffee table.

"Nope. There were no Admiralty Code intervention like what happened to Maya last year. We expected that intervention, too," Hyuuga answered the question. "I hypothesize that Prime Combat Directives only apply against strategic land targets on bombardments. We nuked their hamlet after… evacuation was done, and again there were no intervention."

"I see… interesting. I assume combat drones and ground-attack planes will be the norm of our engagement from now?" Hamakaze said, her elbows on the table supporting her head.

"For the time being, the only combat-ready drones are my Mk-1 Combat Robots," Hyuuga said. "Fleet Flagship is very interested on fielding the Mitsukishi WK-302 Stone Crab tank though. Work on the physical chassis are done, but I'm only halfway done with the Fog-adapted control modules. There's three operational prototypes for now, but they are to be manually controlled."

"The ones confronting Haruna and Kirishima at the Osakabe manor, huh," Hamakaze remarked.

"Mm-hm~ the most advanced tank in the world we left. I bet people here wouldn't be able to even dent one," Hyuuga said, chuckling to herself. "How about the things in your end?"

"The castle has been comprehensively mapped and tapped, and I can safely say that nothing will elude our eyes here. The inner structures is very interesting to see," Hamakaze said. "Suffice to say that most of the softer rock in this hill is gone from mining, and the structure that remain is very strong. It will withstand conventional sieges handily if no biological warfare is involved."

"Resistance to our weaponry?" Hyuuga asked.

"Beam and particle weaponry will be hampered somewhat, but explosives will break most of the defenses handily," the spy diplomat replied. "They are still on the wooden doors phase after all. Not even Southern Live Oak."

"Nice. I can hold off on researching improved explosives then," Hyuuga said. "Well then, I have to check on the printer handling some production. Anything you want to pass on to the Fleet Flagship?"

"Nothing in particular. Please don't explode your lab," Hamakaze quipped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Swapped an ancestor name, because using the name of a creator deity for your name is just too conceited.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which old songs were used to skirt around writing guidelines.

"Septa, can't we just skip this lesson…?" a highborn lady pouted as she continued her needlework. Hamakaze sat across the lady, squinting at her own share of work.

"It's an important craft for your life, Lady Cerenna," the older woman said, her eyes looking at the student's handiwork. "You're not too bad for a beginner, Lady Hamakaze."

"It's… a craft I seldom practice in earnest," Hamakaze said, her tone sheepish. "I can sew fine, but most of our clothes are made by my cousin. She's the best of us in needlework, despite being a year younger than I."

"And what fine work she did," the septa remarked. "The sewing on your clothes are very precise and tidy. Hallmark of a master seamstress in the making, I say."

"I will send her your regards when I meet her, Septa," the foreign princess said, smiling.

"What was life like out in the sea, Lady Hamakaze?" another, younger Lannister lady asked.

"Well it's not so different than here," Hamakaze said, putting her work on her lap. "Think of it as this castle on water."

"Oh…" the younger Lannister lady said as the septa made rounds to check the other noble maidens' work.

"You get rocked by the sea every minute, yes. Storms great enough to make us fear for our life comes once in a while," Hamakaze said, a false despondency in her voice. "How my cousin mastered needlework in those adverse conditions is beyond me."

"Well then, I suppose that's enough for today's needlework lessons," the septa relented, smiling as she gathered and tidied her own supplies. "Lady Myrielle, Lady Cerenna, show your progress the next time we convene for needlework, understand? Lady Hamakaze, you would do well if you can finish your work, although with all your work here I'd understand if you come in slower."

"Thank you, septa," Hamakaze said with a thankful smile.

"So, is it time for song and dance now?" Cerenna said happily as the septa put aside their work in a few baskets sorted according to owner. "We have a lot of songs we can teach to Hamakaze!"

"But I want to see how that harp is played…"Myrielle said pleadingly.

"Milady Myrielle has a point," the septa said. "I, too, am intrigued on how the instrument is played."

"You two conspired against me!" Cerenna accused, though her face is smiling.

"Well, I have to bow to popular demand, am I?" Hamakaze said as she walked to the corner, where her koto waits.

"I'm a little surprised that a noblewoman like you can play instruments, Lady Hamakaze," the septa professed as they set the instrument on a table.

"Well, not many of us have the single-minded devotion to a path like Swordheart," Hamakaze replied while rummaging her pockets for a few rings. "And even Swordheart does a bit of poetry once in a while."

"Swordheart? Making poems? I thought swinging swords is the only thing that she does," Cerenna remarked.

"Her poems are not that good," Hamakaze stage-whispered as she put her rings, eliciting a short giggle from the assembled noble girls. "You didn't hear that from me, understand?"

"What are those rings, Lady Hamakaze?" a black-haired noble asked, pointing at the peculiar rings on Hamakaze's knuckles.

"Oh this? We call this a pick ring," the foreign lady said, before strumming her koto for emphasis. "It prevents my fingers to be torn from strumming the taut strings of the koto, see?"

"Ah… the sound is quite like a harp indeed, milady," the septa said as she settled beside her pupils. "Well then, what song would you play for us today?"

"Hmm… there's so many songs I can sing to you," Hamakaze said before falling into her thoughts for a moment. "Mayhaps this will prepare you for the more… ancient pieces."

Hamakaze strummed her instrument, the notes blending into a tapestry of sound.

_Amazing grace, so sweet the sound  
_ _That saved a lad like me  
_ _I one was lost, but now am found  
_ _Was blind, but now I see_

_Twas grace that taught, my heart to feel  
_ _And grace my fears relieved  
_ _How precious did that grace appear  
_ _The hour I first believed_

_When we've been here ten thousand years  
_ _Bright shining as the sun  
_ _We've no less days to sing to him  
_ _Then when we first begun_

_Amazing grace, so sweet the sound  
_ _That saved a lad like me  
_ _I was once lost, but now am found  
_ _Was blind, but now I see_

"A wonderful performance, lady Hamakaze," the septa praised amidst the modest applause. "It felt like the hymns for The Seven, actually."

"It's… a creation from my late father Lord Senri, actually," Hamakaze said, her smile taking in a slight sadness. "He loved music and composed many melodies. This one was composed shortly before he departed, and I think my sister tried composing a fitting verse in the Old Language. I wrote the verse in the Common Tongue while here, I hope I did a good job…"

"Oh, oh! Is that old-tongue of yours High Valyrian?" Cerenna asked suddenly.

"No, it's not," Hamakaze said. "Our Old Language is our own."

"Your picks looked lovely, Lady Hamakaze," one of the assorted westerland noble lady remarked. "Is it made of ivory? It must have costed a fortune."

"Actually, these set are made from kraken beaks," Hamakaze replied, to the astonishment of the crowd. "I left my old ones home by mistake, but Suzutsuki my friend made a few from a kraken that attacked us."

"Oh my, such a ghoulish material!" one of the ladies said.

"One can make picks from iron, too, but they tend to be harsh on the strings. Bone, horn, or ivory picks are preferred, but yes the ivory ones can be quite exorbitant in price," Hamakaze said. "Now, I believe the septa would like to hear a song in my House's Old Language?"

"Quite, Lady Hamakaze. I am not a maester but other languages fascinate me," the septa replied amicably.

"Well then, here they are," Hamakaze said, smiling as she played a much simpler melody.

_Sakura, sakura  
_ _noyama mo sato mo  
_ _miwatasu kagiri  
_ _kasumi ka kumo ka  
_ _asahi ni niou  
_ _sakura, sakura  
_ _hana zakari_

_Sakura, sakura  
_ _yayoi no sora wa  
_ _miwatasu kagiri  
_ _kasumi ka kumo ka  
_ _nioi zo izuru  
_ _izaya izaya  
_ _mini yukan_

"Is that… your Old Language…?" Myrielle said as Hamakaze finishes her playing.

"Yes, my lady," the foreign lady said as she fingered a string from her koto. "The Old Tongue of the Nihon Archipelago, our lost homeland."

"It sounds like no language I've heard," the septa said pensively.

"What did the song tells about?" one of the ladies asked.

"It's a simple song about the joys of spring, the blooming of sakura flowers," Hamakaze answered. "In the lands our people once lived, there is a kind of tree that flowers magnificently every spring. It was a very important part of our culture."

"We have had a long summer, we wouldn't know," Cerenna said while playing with a runaway lock of her hair.

"It was beautiful. I only know from olden pictures stored in the ships' archives, but when the sakura tree flowers, it flowers in its entirety. Its leaves will only appear after the flowering finishes in the eve of summer," Hamakaze explained, her voice having taken a wistful tone. "If one stood under a row of trees and a strong enough wind passed through, you will feel as if you are in a blizzard of flower petals."

"A blizzard of flowers! How beautiful is that!" a highborn lady exclaimed.

"I might have dreamed of that once or twice," Hamakaze said, a little smile in her face.

"Another of your Old Nihon songs, please!" Cerenna pleaded.

"Enthusiastic, are we?" the foreign lady replied after a giggle. "How about a song… chronicling a glorious war under a thousand sakura tree? It is titled Yoshizune Senbonzakura."

"It sounds like a song men would like, Lady Hamakaze," the septa remarked. "Maybe the girls here won't be as partial…"

"I want to hear it!" Cerenna quickly put her foot down.

"Why don't we put this to a vote? All for the Yoshizune Senbonzakura, raise your hands please," Hamakaze said. Roughly half of the audience raised their hands, with the obvious absence of Myrielle and the septa.

"All against the song?" Hamakaze asked again, now drawing the votes of Myrielle and the septa. "That was quite close, a ten against eight. Yoshizune Senbonzakura will play to your dismay, septa."

To a captive audience Hamakaze started to pluck her strings, weaving a more energetic and harsh tapestry about the tale of Genji.

* * *

…

* * *

"Introducing them to pop music?" Shinano remarked as Hamakaze seated herself across her in the White Room. "Old songs too, from the early turn of the millennium."

"Not much of the archive has music, and a third of them are either war marches or patriotic ditties," Hamakaze replied as her counterpart poured tea to cups. "As close as the local language to English is, I don't think an army marching to Yankee Doodle Dandy will happen anytime soon."

"You're right. Their peace seemed stable for the time being," Shinano remarked, inhaling the warm vapor from her cup of tea.

"A rather heavy tea," Hamakaze said as she put down her teacup, some of its contents drunken. "How was the natural reproduction trials going?"

"We're trialing the carrying abilities of our bodies right now. It's quite interesting to see," Shinano replied. "I'm equivalent to two months along right now."

"Ooh. Who are participating in the experiment?" Hamakaze said, interested.

"Hyuuga acts as our observer, but Amaha and Hatsushimo also participates," Shinano replied.

"What will happen if the babies come to term?" Hamakaze asked.

"We aren't sure, but Hyuuga has some ideas for a wetware processing unit and such," Shinano answered, her cup of tea has since finished.

"Radical idea, even for our former time," Hamakaze said, a dossier appearing on her right hand. "The ledgers of the Westerlands. They are not as rich as it seemed… or at least, not in the people seem to make it to be."

"Oh? That is surprising," Shinano replied.

"Tywin minting the majority of the kingdom's coin is true, but not as much as the populace are lead to believe," Hamakaze explained. "He instead kept most of his bullion in the form of bars and ornamentation in Casterly Rock. The amount of gold decoration here is immense, and there is even more gold in the form of bars."

"He retains it to prevent the devaluation of currency… smart man," Shinano said. "Our treasure are newly minted coin, Hyuuga said."

"I think he threw it our way because we're an out-of-the-way party and unlikely to pump it back to the kingdom's economy, or at least unlikely in the short term," Hamakaze said. "How many is the exact count? I was told it was around five thousand."

"Two hundred coins shy of ten thousand actually, gold and silver both," Shinano answered Hamakaze's question. "Plenty if we wish to purchase a keep in the borderlands. It can raise an army, although since an army needs its support network we will end up with enough funds to outfit a thousand or so. Yamato is thinking of opening a Japanese restaurant."

"Trust the fleet flagship to think of wild schemes like that," Hamakaze said. "She seemed… human in that respect."


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a flag were raised.

"Say, Hamakaze, have we ever used a banner?" Yahagi said as she poured a cup of tea. The white room is tranquil as always. "Like, a real, samurai-like nobori?"

"I don't think so. We have no use of it in our world, and marine signal flags would have sufficed," Hamakaze replied.

"I see. Banners seem to be a very important thing here," Yahagi said pensively.

"Well, they do use the term 'bannermen' for subordinates of the ruling house," Hamakaze replied.

"Beside that, they have a row of banner poles on both sides of the road leading to the gate," Yahagi said after a sip of her cup. "I'm surprised they arrange it like that. It's like a few pictures we have of the old world, that flagpoles by the side of the road kind of things."

"I suppose the arrangement serves as a handy way to denote the loyal subordinate houses of the Westerlands," Hamakaze said, emptying her cup. "Whose banner is the nearest to the gate proper?"

"Houses Lefford and Brax, then houses Crakehall and Farman," Yahagi said. "After that comes houses Swyft and Clegane, before other houses."

"Ah… then those six houses are the most favored amongst all the houses in the domain," Hamakaze said.

"Where would you think our hypothetical banner would be mounted?" Yahagi asked.

"Probably a bit far. Not too far though, that would denote a gross loss of favor from the Lannisters," Hamakaze said. "So, should I ask if we are permitted to make a banner of ourselves? I have a budget review session with Lord Tywin this afternoon."

"Yes! I authorize it!" Yamato butted into the conversation.

"How about the design, Fleet Flagship?" Yahagi asked.

"The Sigil must be there, and that's it," Yamato said as she sat on a chair. "Our intended will probably help in figuring out the rest, Hamakaze."

"Understood, Fleet Flagship," Hamakaze replied.

* * *

...

* * *

"A banner?" Tywin asked, looking up from the documents they have been examining for the afternoon. "You intend to construct a banner of your own House, and the corresponding heraldry?"

"Yes, Lord Tywin. I'm wondering if there are legal processes that should be done in making a set of those, here in the kingdom," Hamakaze said, pausing from his share of the paperwork.

"There are certain codes and writs that must be adhered, true," Tywin said after drinking a gulp of water from his glass. "However, most of it are included in the nobility charter that is issued when a new noble or knightly house is created or recognized. In your case, as House Kirino is not a subordinate house to House Lannister and by extension the Kingdom of Westeros, you are not bound by these rules."

"I see. By rough definition, my house probably falls within the category of a landed knightly house. We possess our keep-ships after all," Hamakaze said, scratching her chin.

"House Lannister can persuade the Kingdom to issue a formal letter of recognition for that, should our two houses join in matrimony," Tywin said, putting his hands to the desk.

"I have no doubt that it will happen, my lord," Hamakaze said, smiling. "Tyrion is quite intelligent and surely a much-needed addition to House Kirino."

"That he is," Tywin grumbled, exhaling. "As much as an embarrassment that he is."

"Nonetheless, I think it is still prudent for me to inform you about my intent of crafting items bearing our heraldry, Lord Tywin," Hamakaze replied. "One standard for carrying on horseback, one shield blazoned with our heraldry, and perhaps a few badges to be worn with formal clothing. Perhaps one or two cloaks beyond that, but the cloaks are less important right now."

"I see. There are a few craftsmen who had been commissioned by House Lannister in the past," Tywin asked. "They had performed satisfactorily."

"Perhaps with the shield and badges," Hamakaze answered. "I will craft the banner for the standard myself, putting the embroidery lessons I've been learning with the ladies to good use."

"Ask that drunkard of my child for the aforementioned craftsman," Tywin said. "And I trust that you will make use of our supplies responsibly."

"I endeavor to, Lord Tywin," Hamakaze said, before going back to her share of documents.

* * *

…

* * *

"Heraldic craftsmen?" Tyrion said, looking up from a book he had been reading.

"Yes. Your lord father said that you know a few people," Hamakaze said.

"There are a few who comes to mind, indeed. Their services does not come cheap, though," Tyrion said before taking a sip from a goblet beside the book on the table.

"We have put together some funds," Hamakaze said, her eyes looking shifty.

"My lady, we… most of all, I owe you uncle Gerion's life," Tyrion said in a deadpan. "Currency is the least of your worries, and my coin purse has been a little heavy lately. No, I'm more concerned about the design."

"I see," Hamakaze said. "Maybe we should consult with the maester and some books about Westerosi heraldry to draft out a design?"

"That's a splendid idea," Tyrion agreed before hopping down from the chair. "Let's go to the maester now, then."

They spent a few moments in silence as they made their way to the maester's quarters. After a few knocks, the young maester opened the door to his quarters.

"Ah, Lord Tyrion and Lady Hamakaze. How may I help you?" Creylen asked.

"We need your help on drafting a design of House Kirino's heraldry," Tyrion replied. "The lady intends to commission a set of items bearing it."

"I see… then let me prepare my palette of paints and a few sheets of parchment," Creylen said. "Shall I meet you in the library shortly? Lord Tyrion should know where the books about heraldry are at."

"So we shall," Hamakaze said. "Thank you, Maester Creylen."

The duet walked some more distance to the nearby library and settled to a corner near the windows.

"I must profess that I never saw you wearing any item with your house's heraldry before, Lady Hamakaze," Tyrion said after setting a sizable book on the table. "I think I only saw it on the flag atop Lady Suzutsuki's ship."

"It is, my lord," Hamakaze replied. "We have very little use of our clan symbols among ourselves. The region we claim home is almost wholly deserted, making identifying friend and foe rather simple. As for my time here, I have been working on a few handkerchiefs for a start."

"Indeed. I cannot imagine the fogs on the Smoking Sea as the life-nurturing sort," Tyrion said. "Nothing ever came out of it, after all."

"There are days that rain ate away at our ships at an astonishing rate," Hamakaze said. "Cousin Hyuuga said she once sat and watched the rainwater ate a hole on metal plating in a single afternoon."

"That severe? I never heard of rains eating away at steel visibly," Tyrion said with a curious tone. "Rains and water in general are a ruiner of metal true, but more as an aggravating factor to lack of care instead of a direct cause."

"A thousand apologies for the wait, milord, milady. I seem to have misplaced my solvent oils," Creylen interrupted further discourse as he walked towards the duo with a roll of parchments and something resembling a toolbox. "Now milady, what would you use in your coat of arms?"

"Well the first and foremost of our symbols is the Sigil of The Admiralty," Hamakaze said after Creylen handed her a charcoal stick. "I know not if this is the personal sigil of our clan or merely a symbol of Nihon's extinct navy, yet we use it nonetheless."

"Exciting…" Creylen said as Hamakaze finished the sketch of the symbol. "I never seen a sigil quite like this before."

"Beyond this, I have little to add to the design," Hamakaze said.

"Perhaps you should add something to evoke the imagery of seas?" Tyrion suggested. "You practically live on it your whole life, after all."

"Hm… come to think about it, there is an iconic painting of the wave from my homeland," Hamakaze said. "It is named The Great Wave Off Kanagawa. I'm not sure I can reproduce it from memory, though."

"We can evoke it in a simpler way with wavy patterns in the background," Creylen suggested. "Using hues of blue as colors could work, too."

"I take blue is one of your house's signature colors too?" Tyrion asked.

"I'm not sure, but blue and white is a favorite color combination of Lady Yamato so perhaps?" Hamakaze answered. "Her favored blue is very deep though, unlike House Arryn's sky-blue. It looks almost black from a good distance."

"That could work for the shield's color, but we must make the sigil white if we want to use a deep blue background," Creylen said.

"The rule of tinctures, maester?" Tyrion chimed in. "I thought that particular rule is not widely used nowadays."

"The rigid usage of the rules has indeed fallen out of favor, true," Creylen replied. "It is more of a loose guideline nowadays, but still useful in designing a new crest from the ground up."

"I see… so a white Sigil of The Admiralty on a dark blue background, then," Hamakaze summarized the design so far as Creylen puts the idea so far to a sketch on a sheet of fresh parchment.

"We can put the waves on the pointed side of the sigil," Tyrion pointed. "It looks more like an anchor now, Isn't it?"

"That it is, my lord," Hamakaze said as she smiled.

"Come to think about it, do your house have house words?" Tyrion asked. "A phrase that is used to identify one's house, an embodiment of its thoughts and philosophies as a whole."

"Hm… I'm not sure if we ever have a phrase like that," "But Lady Yamato has a phrase she likes to say whenever a loss is incurred."

"And the phrase is?" Tyrion pressed the inquiry.

" _Another hope fades away into night_ ," Hamakaze said. "It's rare, but I have heard her say it aloud. One of the occasion is when our father's remains get carried away by the waves."

"A surprisingly solemn phrase," Creylen commented as he puts some finishing touches to the sigil painting. "Comparing to the words of Westerosi noble houses, the words of House Stark comes to mind."

" _Winter is coming_ , if I'm not mistaken?" Tyrion supplied.

"Quite right, Lord Tyrion," Creylen said. "Do you think the waves are adequate, Lady Hamakaze?"

"Perfect, Maester," Hamakaze said.

* * *

…

* * *

"This is the day, is it not," Benedict Broom said as Swordheart made a final adjustment to the standard pole she has been building for a past few days. Nearly five yards in length, the curious banner-holder pole is shaped like a simple stick with a single protrusion near the end unlike the more usual T-shape.

"Yes it is, Ser Broom," Swordheart said. "My cousin said to me yesterday that the standard is ready."

"And here comes the lady," Broom replied as he points to the direction of the door leading to Casterly Rock proper. Hamakaze indeed appears from the direction of the castle, a dark bundle of cloth on her hand.

"Cousin Swordheart," Hamakaze said as she stopped beside Swordheart, presenting the folded banner. "Our uma-jirushi."

"Just as the banners of old, of the Takeda, Uesugi, and Oda," Swordheart said as she accepted the banner.

"Ooma-Jeerooshee?" Broom asked.

"The term means 'horse-banner' in our old tongue," Hamakaze said as Swordheart mounted the banner on the pole. "It can be carried on the barding or on the back of the armor of the knight."

"It is done," Swordheart said as she propped the banner on his hands. Dark blue fabric fluttered to the wind, affixed to the pole by straps of similar material. A Sigil of The Admiralty, embroidered in white thread, fluttered to the rhythm of the windswept fabric.

"I imagine it's fairly heavy when mounted on one's back," Broom commented. "But It has a certain majesty to it, isn't it?"

"That it is, good Ser," Hamakaze said as the trio walked to an agreed-upon place to mount the banner.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which fried noodles were made.

Hamakaze Kirino woke up at dawn, stretching to the first rays of sunlight that escaped the barricade of curtains and eaves barring entry to her window. Mumbling a few nothings to herself, she walked to the nearby wash basin and washed her face.

"Enter, it's not locked," the Mental Model said to the knocking on her door before toweling her face. A homely brown-haired maid walked in carrying two buckets of steaming water.

"Good morning milady, I have come to help you for the day," the maid said.

"Thank you, good maid," Hamakaze replied. "You're… Calla, wasn't it?"

"Yes, milady," the maid said as she opened the windows.

"Ah… I think Suzu might have mentioned you once or twice," Hamakaze replied as she entered the bathroom to bathe.

"I was ordered to help Lady… Suzu before her departure milady, that's true," Calla replied as she collected Hamakaze's nightwear and put it in the laundry basket.

"It's Suzutsuki, Calla. Quite the mouthful for the people here, I understand," Hamakaze replied after a small giggle.

"A-a thousand pardons milady," Calla replied, readying a bar of soap for Hamakaze to use. "It's just… your names are so unheard of before. We have had Essosi guests here before… from somewhere called Braavos I believe, but their names are not quite so… mouthful."

"We did hail halfway again across the world from there, true," Hamakaze mused as she rinsed the soap off her skin. The rest of the bath proceeds in relative silence.

"Which dress would you like to wear today, milady?" Calla asked as she brought the freshly-bathed Hamakaze a large towel.

"Hmm. There's no court today and I don't have to attend budget reviews since Lord Tywin is inspecting a few nearby keeps. The ladies are probably going to Lannisport to shop around which I don't really want to join since I've just been there not three days ago…" Hamakaze mused, her body only clad in smallclothes. "Say Calla, didn't your sister work at the kitchens?"

"Yes milady, that is true. Daisy has gained some notoriety after Lady Suzu… introduced those new recipes," Calla replied, standing by beside the cupboard.

"Ah… then what do you say about adding to that notoriety? I may have a few more Old Nihon recipes up my proverbial sleeves," Hamakaze said, her smile mischievous. "I think I'll wear that red cotton one."

"Shall I arrange for ingredients and cooking space again, milady?" Calla asked as she helped Hamakaze into the mentioned dress.

"Yes… I'll need flour, eggs, spring onions, and probably chicken, but we'll see what the cooks serve as soup," Hamakaze said as her helper fastened her laces. "If we're lucky, I'll lunch on Nihon cuisine."

* * *

…

* * *

With the day early, there are not a lot of people breaking their fast in the main hall of Casterly Rock as Hamakaze strode in. She looks around and spotted a few of the extended Lannister families on the raised table. The great seat is empty, of course.

"Lady Hamakaze! Pretty early of you!" A bearded young Lannister waved excitedly.

"I slept pretty early, Ser Daven," Hamakaze replied as she sat across the young man. "A light meal before training today, I presume?"

"Aye. Some of the squires has taken a shine for your cousin, you know," Daven said, his eyes twinkling. "And some of the older knights, even!"

"Huh. I never saw Swordheart as the social sort," Hamakaze replied.

"Weird as it is, I think they're interested because Ser Swordheart is a strong maiden," Daven said after washing down a bite of bread with water. "She is yet to be beaten in a spar, last I heard. Everyone seemed to be eager for a session with her."

"Including you, I presume?" Hamakaze said teasingly as a maid served her a tray of hearty breakfast.

"Oh I won't hold my breath about it, she has developed quite a queue of challenges," Daven replied. "Already the lads are calling her Iron Flower and other monikers."

"I suppose I'll let my cousin grapple with her newfound fame," Hamakaze said. "Any news of Lord Tywin, by the by?"

"Father said the entourage was headed towards Clegane's Keep or thereabouts. After that keep, they should head home," Daven said. "Are you coming with the women on their trip to Lannisport today, my lady?"

"Regrettably not, good Ser," Hamakaze said after swallowing a bite of bacons. "I have developed a craving for the tastes of my homeland, again."

"Is that so," Daven replied. "This would be interesting. I quite liked the seaweed puddings!"

"Good to hear that from you, Ser. What I'm attempting is none so flashy, however," Hamakaze replied as Daven finished off his soup.

"Well anyhow, I look forward for your new creations!" Daven said, standing up after cleaning his mouth with a napkin. "If you will excuse me now, my lady, I have training to look forward to."

"Have a good day, Ser Daven," Hamakaze said with a smile.

* * *

…

* * *

"There you are," a womanly voice said as Hamakaze rolled away on a wad of dough. "I had thought you went with the other ladies to Lannisport today."

"Eh-… wah, Lady Genna," Hamakaze replied, stopping her chore and swinging around to face her addressor. "I thought you went with the girls…?"

"Kevan and Tyrion went with them, bless their souls," Genna said as she peered at the wad of dough Hamakaze was working on. "Is that some sort of pastry?"

"Not… exactly," Hamakaze answered the question while she restarted rolling the dough again. "It's a staple of Old Nihon, similar to bread here. We call it mein."

"Mein, is it. Looks like grueling work just for some staples," Genna commented, folding her hands on her chest. "I had thought that since your cousin is of a cadet branch, she is obviously more at home in the kitchens. To think that you, a scion of the main branch, equally so adept…"

"We all pitched in, since there are so little of us left" Hamakaze replied, still rolling away at the dough. "And my ability is none but a little finger compared to cousin Shiomaru's entire arm."

"I can't say I understand," Genna said as an aide brought her a chair to sit on. "But it's a mistake if I say that I don't try."

"Ufufu," Hamakaze giggled as she finally finished with the dough, pinching it to her satisfaction. "It's all I can ask of you, my lady."

"Lady Hamakaze, I've brought the gravy and bacons," a female cook walked in not a few moments after Hamakaze finished checking her dough. "There are some carrots and cabbages, too…"

"Excellent Daisy, let's set that aside for now and I'll show you how to cut this dough to small ribbons," Hamakaze gestured to the dough she had painstakingly rolled to a thin layer. "Feel the texture. Got it? You should roll on the mixed dough until it's about this bouncy."

"Yes, milady," Daisy said, nodding.

"Alright. Now we sprinkle the tops with flour so it doesn't stick," Hamakaze said, doing just so before flipping the rolled dough and doing the same thing again. "And then sprinkle the other side too. Now, we roll this up like so… and done. Slice this roll across to the direction we're rolling. Got that?"

"Yes, milady. Is this thin good?" Daisy replied while showing her first few slices.

"Just right… excellent. Now go and boil some water, I'll cut up the rest of the dough," Hamakaze directed Daisy to a stove. "Also prepare the vegetables as you go alright?"

"Yes milady," Daisy replied obediently as she moved to prepare the fire.

"Bethany," Genna said to her aide. "Have you cooked before?"

"N-no my lady, I only saw glimpses when I went to the kitchen…" Bethany replied, a little groggily.

"Now is your chance to try, then," Genna said, smiling slightly.

"Well, two more hands are more than the two of us have now," Hamakaze playfully added. "Would you like to try cutting the dough, Lady Bethany?"

"W-w-… I'm afraid I'll botch that up, Lady Hamakaze,"

"Don't worry, you'll be fine! Uneven cuts shouldn't affect the taste," Hamakaze said. "Well, unless you spill blood at the dough of course."

"N-no thank you!" Bethany squeaked, looking a little more pale than necessary.

"If you can peel a fruit, you'll be fine!" Hamakaze said, further trying to encourage the slightly shy aide.

"I'll be fine sitting here without you, Bethany," Genna said, her tone slightly imperious.

"Y-yes my lady," Bethany replied, slightly dejected.

"That's the spirit! Now you hold the knife like this… and the roll like this… aaand cut. See, not too hard right? You can push the cut stuff to the side here," Hamakaze said as she guided Bethany through the process. "Now repeat until you get to the end of the roll _o-kei_?"

"Yes, Lady Hamakaze," Bethany said, resuming her activities.

A few minutes passed in relative silence as the three girls went by to their own tasks. Bethany's slightly awkward cutting made a far-between noise punctuated by the faint gurgling the boiling water is making and the fast taps that Daisy is making while cutting carrots and cabbages.

"Lady Hamakaze, I'm finished," Bethany said as she finished her last piece of dough.

"Well done, Lady Bethany! Though… this is quite a bit less than I expected," Hamakaze said, giggling slightly at the veritable pile Bethany had managed to gather. "A bit of a stretch, but we'll feed four with this much. Now let's dump this to boiling water, scoop them all up and in they go!"

"The vegetables are done, Lady Hamakaze," Daisy piped up as the two younger ladies watch the boiling pot bubble up. "Would you like them going into the pot as well?"

"Hm? Oh no, that would be for frying," Hamakaze said as she prodded and stirred at the boiling dough strips. "We'll probably need a bigger pan for this much. See to it, will you?"

"At once, milady," Daisy replied as she got up and walked off, in search of a bigger pan.

"Ah, the strips are done," Hamakaze said after a short while.

"Done? I had thought that it would take longer," Genna commented as Hamakaze carefully drained the pot of water.

"Mm, I don't quite know why but cousin Shiomaru once said that mein should not be boiled too long. It becomes soggy and soft," Hamakaze replied as Daisy walked in with a larger pan.

"It looks like… yellow strings?" Bethany commented.

"A kind of," Hamakaze replied as she put the pan on the flame. "Now we fry the ingredients and hopefully this will taste well! I need a larger flame Daisy, but pay attention to my instructions all the same."

"You too, Bethany," Genna added, to a chorus of two yeses.

"First we heat a little oil, and then crack open two eggs," Hamakaze said, doing just that while stirring with a ladle. "Mix it around until it's getting white like this. The bacons and gravy goes in next."

"Interesting," Genna commented. "It's nothing like the cooking of the Westerlands."

"They say many of our techniques are brought to Old Nihon from the mainland, but evidently this mainland is not Westeros or Essos," Hamakaze replied as she tossed the ingredients around. "Add salt and spices to taste, and now that we see that the mix has firmed some more, in go the vegetables and the mein."

"Oh, that smells unique…" Bethany commented.

"That's a good sign! I haven't burned anything at least," Hamakaze said, the ladle in her hand tapping the side of the pan to dislodge some random piece of cooked egg. "And done! Fried mein a la Casterly Rock! Divide it into four portions, Daisy, and take one for yourself."

"B-but it wouldn't be proper of me to…" Daisy objected.

"A cook who doesn't know how his own food taste must be either mad or a poisoner," Genna snarked.

"Forgive me Lady Hamakaze, but at a glance it looks like… worms?" Bethany said as she served a portion to Genna.

"You saw how it's made, though," Hamakaze replied while pulling out a slim box from a belt-purse. "But I suppose to someone who has never seen mein before can say that."

"What is that?" Genna curiously asked as Hamakaze pulled two slim sticks out of the slim box.

"This is a traditional eating utensil of Old Nihon, we call it hashi," Hamakaze explained. "Forks can be used too, I guess… well anyway, let's dig in!"

A few moments of relative silence swept over them as they ate the new dish. A pale blush rose on Hamakaze's cheeks. Genna and Bethany struggled somewhat to lift the strips with their forks. Daisy ate her portion a little distance apart from the group, siting on a low stool on the floor.

"The taste can use a little work," Genna spoke as they ate.

"I'm sure the cooks of Casterly Rock can innovate on the taste and feel of the dish, isn't it Daisy?" Hamakaze said. "Mein can go into light soups just fine as well. They can even be dried for later consumption."

"Interesting," Genna noted after Hamakaze said the last sentence. "How long can dried mein last, Lady Kirino?"

"Some… months, I was told by my cousin. I never tried eating dry mein older than a few weeks old, since there is no great need to do so," Hamakaze said.

"Hmm, do raise this idea with my older brothers when you convene with them sometimes," Genna suggested. "This could prove a handy food for soldiers both on march and on sieges."

"Before that we should experiment on making them first, I guess!" Hamakaze replied, laughing.

* * *

…

* * *

"Eventful day, I presume?" Daven Lannister said as Tyrion sat across him on the supper table.

"Oh, that's not even the half of it, my cousin," Tyrion replied before letting out a long relieved sigh. "I fear my short legs will snap if I walked more today. Oh, the agony."

"Poor you. Well at least you're not at the receiving end of Ser Swordheart's blade," Daven said, pulling his sleeve to show a few inches of bluish skin. "Look at this bruise. That woman is a complete and utter beast, The Warrior Made Mortal I say!"

"By The Seven… that looked severe, cousin. What happened? Did you cop a feel or something?" Tyrion japed.

"Nah, Ser Broom staged a capture-the-standard-bearer mock-battle with blunt weapons. He said it would give us real-world perspective of a big battle or somesuch," Daven told the story. "He commands a platoon of twenty against a same force commanded by Ser Swordheart. We won the objective, but she decimated many of the boys."

"I'm rather glad she's on our good side," Tyrion said.

"Good evening sers and lords, here is your dinner today!" a cheerful voice said as a slightly sooty Hamakaze served two bowls of a weird dish in front of the two lads. "Hand-made Old Nihon staple called mein, made by yours truly."

"Lady Hamakaze, A long day in the kitchens I see?" Daven said as he lifted some of the dish with his fork. "Another queer dish…"

"Fairly fruitful day, I wager," Tyrion said, before looking at his own portion. "…Is this worms?"

"Made of pest-free wheat flour, I assure you," Hamakaze said, waving to Gerion Lannister entering the hall. "Lord Gerion, come and join us!"

"My lady!" Gerion said in a jolly tone as he sat across Hamakaze before a fourth portion. "What is this? Mein? My word, it feels like an eternity since I ate these!"

"Fried mein a la Casterly Rock, Lord Gerion," Hamakaze replied. "A pale shadow against the one Cousin Shiomaru made for you I'm afraid, but do try."

"This is actually… quite good. The texture is quite unlike anything I ate before," Tyrion commented as a few maids brought them jugs of water and wine. "Tastes like ordinary Master Orton gravy and brown sauce though."

"Well, it's an improvement compared to Lady Genna's verdict, at least!" Hamakaze said cheerily.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we catch up with the rest of Planetos.

As a rule of thumb, Varys the Spider doesn't like to be surprised. Surprise means the adversary has more information than he does, and information means power. Caught by surprise can mean a swift death to entities of any size, and the Kingdom of Westeros is no exception.

His little birds constantly feed him a wealth of information from all over the realm, some important and some less so. A lord of The Reach sired a healthy son. Vale was again having problems with mountain men raids. Gerion Lannister made it back from the Smoking Sea.

Varys paused on that last one. Nobody went out from the ruins of Valyria alive, that is as much law of nature as it is fact. Perhaps an imposter? There have been three by now, a fourth would be foolish indeed.

He made a note to focus on this issue later. Maybe coax them out from the mouth of Tyrion Lannister himself? That wouldn't be that much of a challenge. Intoxication and whores tend to make even the best men spill their dark secrets.

That said, he really needs to expand his network to the North. Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark share a bond thicker than Robert to his own siblings, and Varys had a hunch it will be an important factor in near future politics. The problem is, The North tended to be self-sufficient and that includes their brothels. Very few Southerner whores braved the journey northwards to find work. Those who do tend to concentrate themselves in larger border-towns like White Harbor or Torrhen's Square.

Varys sighed. Perhaps try pushing a few birds deeper in? But then, someone would be suspicious, and in this line of work often suspicion is as dangerous as fact.

* * *

…

* * *

_Uncle Gerion returned some time ago. Brought guests with him, said they saved his life. All young girls. One's a great swordsman, sundered Hound's sword in the scabbard like it was nothing. When's your next furlough? It's almost a year now._

_Best regards,_

_Tyrion_

Jaime Lannister smiled a sincere smile as he read the short letter. He has missed his younger brother dearly, and his own yearly furlough is indeed fast incoming. Perhaps he should appeal for that furlough now? That's an interesting thought.

The thought of a great swords-woman intrigued Jaime. He had heard of Northern women being about as tough as the men, and some even rode to battle with them. House Mormont was the most famous of them in the recent past, and after the male heir ran away the aunt took the reins.

"A letter to you, Ser Jaime?" a kindly voice startled Jaime from his thoughts. "You seem to be happy about a piece of parchment."

"Ah, yes Lord Hand," Jaime replied to the older man as he fell into step slightly behind the old man. "My uncle has the great fortune to come back to us after his quest for Brightroar."

"Oh? Gerion Lannister came back? An auspicious news indeed," Jon said, her eyebrows slightly perking up. "Your father must be quite relieved."

"I Imagine so…" Jaime replied. "If possible at all, I wish to take furlough and meet him."

"I'm sure our King would not mind, Ser Jaime," Jon said, smiling. "But we shall see."

* * *

…

* * *

"What was that again?" Cersei Lannister said, her form lounging on the bed she shared with her twin brother.

"I am taking my furlough early this year," her twin brother reiterated. "Uncle Gerion returned and I want to meet him. Our King agreed quickly."

"Oh," she replied half-heartedly. "Well I suppose it is your right after all."

"You two don't get along very well, didn't you," Jaime said as he lounged on the bed.

"That man prides himself a jester," Cersei replied, pouring herself some wine. "And rightly he became a laughingstock. Little wonder how Father hasn't assigned him to some out-of-the-way keep yet."

"He's not all that bad. I learned how to dodge and sneak from him," the golden warrior said a touch defensively.

"Hmph. Be back soon," the queen grunted.

"I'll stay there about a month or so, going back on Tommen's nameday tournament. Our little brother said something interesting," Jaime said, propping himself against the headboard. "A woman skilled with the sword. I wonder if her skill is any good."

"Hmph. You knew well that I am the greatest swords-woman in all Westeros," Cersei haughtily said.

"You can say that again. I'm just curious," Jaime replied.

* * *

…

* * *

"Hello? Anybody here?" a long-haired blonde woman said as she ventured into the white room.

"Oh thank goodness we can access the Joint Tactical Network!" a smaller, more pink companion added, padding along beside her.

"Unauthorized entry to the Joint Tactical Network? Interesting," A lady in pink dress said, her back towards the new entries.

"Wait wait wait! We come in peace! We got lost in the woods and cut off from the network, give us a break!" the pink companion said, stepping forward despite her tiny steps.

"…Is that you, Kirishima?" the pink lady replied, turning to face the blond girl. "And Haruna… now this is unexpected."

"Shinano?" the doll addressed as Kirishima replied. "What the hell? Where have you been all these months?"

"Months? How long have we been gone?" Shinano said incredulously.

"Two months have passed after Yamato's task force disappeared into the gravitation anomaly," the blond in the jacket said.

"So… time flows differently in this world. Interesting…" Shinano remarked. "Anyway, where are you two? Put a marker in the GPS system and I can dispatch Yukikaze to get you near the coast after she finished defragmenting."

"We're not quite sure. It seemed like a temperate grassland," Haruna said. "Receiving access code… okay. We have a pinging beacon lit."

"The Riverine Plains… well, this complicates things," Shinano grunted. "You two are landlocked, too far from any shoreline for extraction. The rivers near you are too shallow for ocean-going vessels. The nearest viable extraction point is about… four hundred kilometers south. We are about thrice that distance to the southeast."

"Air extraction?" Haruna suggested. "We can scout out suitable landing sites and then camp it out."

"That's a good idea… I think there will be a suitable body of water for 402's seaplane nearby, since there are several rivers near your position. I'll send you satellite photos of your area," Shinano said. "Oh, and is Makie Osakabe with you?"

"Yes, she's with us. We packed clothes, some food, and her specific drugs, but we can't be sure how long we're going to survive without proper supplies," Kirishima said. "Do you people have manufacture capabilities?"

"Hyuuga has a research and production facility on one of the islands, I think she can help you with drugs and whatnots," Shinano replied.

"Alright, based on your maps we might have a river about twenty-thirty kilometers from where we are," Kirishima said. "If we trek a day or two, we can make it to the riverbank and you can pick us up there."

"Very well. I'll have Akashi build 402 a twin-seater F1M for pickup. After that, she'll get as close as possible to the estuary and make the extraction," Shinano said. "Oh… and was Maya with you?"

"Maya dropped us off because Makie wants to explore inland," Haruna replied.

* * *

…

* * *

_Waaaaait,_ The Mental Model of the heavy cruiser Maya thought as she blinked. _Where did that island go?_

She backtracked a little, frowning. The four of them stopped in an island near Halmahera because Makie wants to explore rainforests. Kirishima and Maya accompanied Makie aboard a F1M so Maya can stay further off-shore and not alert the various Dutch cruisers prowling around the place. Then suddenly there was an aurora, followed by pretty rainbows everywhere, and poof! Island went missing from both radar and sight.

"Hmm…" the brunette thoughtfully mused. "I guess I'll try contacting the Joint Tactical Network!"

A few minutes pass in silence, the Mental Model grunting in exasperation as she tried to find the Joint Tactical Network with little success. With a single pouty huff, she sat on the deck by her piano.

"Hmm? Well that's a weird ship…" Maya mumbled as her sensors alerted her of a wooden ship approaching from her starboard. "And that logo is scaaaary."

Maya spent a few more moments contemplating before sending off a small, quiet drone. The rowed galley approached silently, or so they thought.

"Hmm. They must be pirates! Doesn't quite look Somali though…" Maya said as the drone's nightvision camera showed her the newcomers. One man was wearing an eyepatch, barking off orders left and right to the mostly silent crew. "Well too bad, Mr. Pirate! Because I'm going to pirate you now!"

A few more minutes of tense waiting were had, before the galley is finally brought alongside the heavy cruiser. Scouts from the galley boarded the ship, spreading out around the deck before the main boarding party hoisted themselves up. Amongst them is the eyepatch-wearing captain of the quiet crew.

"This is a very strange… ship…" the captain mumbled as he walked with her entourage.

It was then that the ship lit up, pink patterns emitting light to the boarder's cry of dismay. The sudden illumination proved a deciding factor in the engagement.

"CAAAARNIVAL DAYO!"

Thus Euron Greyjoy was laid low, his head cracked open like ripe melon, clubbed to death by way of a giant cello.

* * *

…

* * *

"Get your fish! Freshest fish this side of the bay! Fresh fish!"

It was a rather ordinary day in Astapor's market. The fisherman's daughter hollered aloud, trying attract customers with her voice and her fresh fish. Indeed there have been several satisfied buyers today, judging from the smaller number of fishes remaining on her table compared to the other fishmongers.

"I wish to buy _tako_ ," a statuesque blond woman said after stopping herself in front of the stall the fisherman's doughter manned. Her lips is colored blue, not unlike some denizens from Qarth.

"I'm afraid I'm all out of it today. Unless you are interested in some _buri_?" the fisherman's daughter replied, but not motioning her hand to any fish in particular.

"Good afternoon, Zuikaku," the blond woman said. "Good to see someone familiar, at last."

"Likewise, Kongou. How's your hull?" Zuikaku said.

"It is… on the sea alright," Kongou replied, her tone slightly exasperated. "Though a sea of grass instead of water."

"I… see. I'm a bit luckier for landing offshore, then. Half a day full-tilt from Astapor, actually… well, about six hundred nautical miles from here," Zuikaku said. "Saw the people, experienced their life, fended off a few miscreants, and finally decided to just live like I used to, selling fish I caught to people."

"A good thing, I guess. What can you discern about the land? I'm fairly sure this is not Planet Earth anymore," Kongou said.

"Since you're from the Sea of Grass, I guess you have met Dothraki people. Basically what the olden Mongolian Horde would be if they outright worshipped horses," Zuikaku said while passing a metal tube to Kongou. "I've heard no significant settlements exist there due to their constant raiding."

"Hmm. I have… a deal with one of the chieftains," Kongou said after she drank the content of the tube. "Their life and some protection, in exchange of secrecy."

"I see… so that's why I've heard of people searching for a 'witch in the mist' lately…" Zuikaku said. "Which chieftain did you struck a deal with?"

"He is a old one. A little cautious, quite uncharacteristic for his people," Kongou said. "I think his name is… Bharbo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I think it's fairly logical that a royal servant like Jaime gets at least some time off if he requested it. With the arrival of a long-lost and (fairly) respectable uncle like Gerion, I'm pretty sure Jaime is well within his rights to request a leave from court.  
> \- The only other Mental Model without canonical portrayal (aside from the destroyers) in this fic is Shinano. Shinano in this fic is a tall woman, just a bit shorter than Yamato. She has sharp Asian features, a lean body with rather small chest, narrow eyes, and shoulder-length brown hair. She is also a twin mental model, with the other named Owari. Owari has similar features with Yahagi, only with bob-cut black hair and taller body.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jaime arrived.

It was midday in a particularly hot day when a swordsman armored in gold and white lead his small band of men through the Lion's Gate. Their Lannister banner waving to the breeze, they rode unopposed towards the Lion's Mouth gate.

"Ah, home sweet home," the golden knight grunted as he hopped off his horse and handed the reins to a stablehand. Around him, what little party remained after they embarked on the journey dispersed. "Oh, I'm starving..."

"Jaime, my son," Tywin said as he ascended the stairs to the stable area.

"Father, it's been too long," Jaime replied, bowing to Tywin as the latter approached, Kevan Lannister and a small retinue behind the old lord. "A greeting party just for me? I feel important!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Tywin replied after he shared a quick hug with Jaime. "We are on the way to the training grounds."

"For practice? It's baking out there, Father," Jaime said, eyeing an unusual sword his father had on his belt.

"Well not now," Kevan said. "Your father and I are going to attend the demonstration of a new field ration. A guest of ours has been developing it for the past month and half."

"That guest Tyrion mentioned in his letter?" Jaime asked.

"Yes, the ladies from The House Kirino," Kevan replied. "Walk along, we'll introduce you to them."

"I'd love to, but I might not be presentable," Jaime said with a smirk.

"It's a test of field rations, we might as well bring some knights fresh from the field," Tywin said as he stepped away from Jaime. Jaime seemed puzzled for a moment, but followed his father's retinue anyway.

The retinue walked for a fair distance to the training grounds, finding that an open tent, a long table with bowls and utensils, and a few benches has been provided in the middle of the field. A few small campfires was there off to the side, one of which attended by his brother Tyrion and a grey-haired lady to the side. The heat of midday permeated the fields, the air no cooler than when Jaime arrived.

"Ah, Lord Tywin, Lord Kevan, right on time," the grey-haired lady greeted. Jaime noted then that her hair is indeed ashen in color instead of consumed by age. "The first test batch is being retrieved from storage, so please wait for a few minutes."

"Tyrion!" Jaime exclaimed as his brother sauntered over. "Fancy becoming a cook now?"

"It would be a respectable career for a dwarf like me, my brother," Tyrion replied after they clasp hands and hug. "But alas, the lady has several years headstart and is a few leagues ahead."

"Nothing a few months of intense training cannot catch, my lord," the grey-haired lady said with a smile.

"May I present you my brother, Jaime Lannister," Tyrion said as the lady bowed. "Jaime, this is Hamakaze Kirino, one of the guests from House Kirino."

"My lady, I am honored to meet one of my uncle's saviors," Jaime said after bowing himself.

"We were just doing what any decent man would have done, Ser Jaime," Hamakaze said. "Ah, I see Maester Creylen has arrived. The demonstration will start after we set up."

"I bade you good luck, my lady," Jaime said.

A few minutes passed as Creylen and two woman brought a few baskets and lined them up on the long table. Another woman walked with the trio, but Jaime noted that she carried a same build of sword on her waist. Ah... so this is the warrior, Jaime thought.

"What of these packages, Maester?" Tywin said, looking over the rows.

"These are the test batches of dried mein we have cooked... about a moon's turn and a half ago," Creylen said as Tywin and Kevan walked to the display table, inspecting the batches. "I am happy to report that seven of ten packages of the stored first test batch survived the storage and are safe for consumption, my lord. The three that did not survive fell victim to rodents. Apparently they find it tasty."

"Have a bite, Jaime," Tywin said, handing a small bar of the new rations to Jaime.

"Well, nothing ventured nothing gained they say," Jaime said before he bit into the bar. "Oh, crunchy... and it's... a bit savory? Tastes a little better than trail ration bars, at any rate."

"And there we have an opinion from a knight fresh off the field," Tywin said in a deadpan.

"It is meant to be served with hot soup, but in a pinch it can be eaten dry indeed, Ser Jaime," Hamakaze said, her tone amused.

"Is that so... well this surely will beat trail rations. Those things are tasteless in the best of days," Jaime said. "And don't get me started on how they taste in the worst days. Sometimes I think the soil is more appetizing than those hardtacks."

"Regardless, it seemed that we have achieved some success," Kevan said. "This could prove to be a boon for sieges, at least in a sense that it extends the storage life for flours and make them easier to transport. Shall we extend the scale of production, Tywin?"

"No. It may be too early yet," Tywin said while rubbing his chin. "Is there any way to discern the true hard limit of the storage life?"

"That experiment is still ongoing, my lord," the maester said. "We have dried mein packs from the same batch stocked in various storages within The Rock, ready to be inspected next month."

"Is that so," Tywin remarked. "Then I await the next monthly assessment meetings."

"Now, let us test the taste of rations as it was meant to be prepared," Hamakaze said, having taken a few blocks of the dried stuff and holding it over the cauldron upon the fire.

"So that's what you mean by served in hot soup..." Jaime said, peering over the cauldron a few moments after Hamakaze put the blocks into it. "What's in there?"

"A stock of chicken bones, a few pinches of salt and pepper, and a bundle of common herbs, stewed for an hour or so," Tyrion said. "It was meant to show what a reasonably-skilled huntsman or camp cook can prepare after a short forage."

"The smell is quite appetizing," Jaime said as Hamakaze stirred the contents of the vessel. "...is that... worms?"

"The slender form of mein can look like worms for first-time eater," Hamakaze said after a shared chuckle with Tyrion. "But I assure you Ser, there are no worms involved in the making of the product."

"Even I made the same mistake the first time, brother," Tyrion said, peering over the cauldron. "I think it's done, Lady Hamakaze."

"Looks like it is. The other ones are probably ready, too," Hamakaze said. "Daisy, Calla, you can start serving now."

With a chorus of yeses, the two servants got to work. Portions of the mein soup are ladled to bowls, and swiftly distributed to the small party. Jaime noted that instead of using ladles, the servants used a pair of thin lacquered sticks to lift and distribute the long strips of the foreign food to bowls.

"That's a curious tool," Jaime said as he noted that Tyrion was deftly using the same kind of paired sticks.

"It is called a pair of hashi, brother," Tyrion said as he finished portioning off the mein from their cauldron. "An eating utensil from their homeland, and deceptively dexterous on the hand too. Though I really can't brag of mastering it when my lady here can move peanuts with it."

"Swordheart's master once caught a fly with it. No truer mastery exists as far as I know," Hamakaze countered. "Swordheart, come and eat with us!"

"Is that the swords-woman you mentioned on your raven?" Jaime asked in a half-whisper as said woman approaches.

"She is. Rumor has it that a betting pool for her defeat had started among the guards," Tyrion replied. "Amount is close to twenty dragons at present."

"Ser Jaime, allow me to introduce my cousin, Swordheart. She is my sister's master-at-arms, sent alongside of me to learn the war-craft of Westeros," Hamakaze said. "Swordheart, this is Ser Jaime Lannister of The Kingsguard, the strongest swordsman in Westeros today."

"An honor to meet you, Ser Jaime," Swordheart said, bowing deeply.

"The same can be said to you, Lady Swordheart," Jaime replied, smiling.

"Now that introductions are made, let us share a meal," Hamakaze said, handing a filled bowl to Jaime.

"Itadakimasu," Swordheart said just before she started to eat.

"Itadakimasu," Hamakaze echoed.

"It is a sort of prayer they utter before each meal," Tyrion explained, pre-empting Jaime's question. "Well then, let's eat."

A few moments were shared in silence between the four as they enjoyed the mein soup. Jaime savored the unique taste and textures of the food, his hunger quickly slaked by the modest meal.

"This is quite delicious!" Jaime said while pausing from his meal. "If this is my camp meal in a battlefield, I'm sure I'll fight my hardest the next day!"

"There you have it, my lady," Tyrion said, chuckling. "The soldier's opinion of the field ration."

"We can still improve, but your opinion is greatly valued all the same Ser Jaime," Hamakaze said. "I'm thinking of developing a sort of instant soupstock powder alongside the mein."

"If a way to make soupstock powder like that could be devised, it could change how the supply train is handled entirely," Tyrion commented. "For one, it will greatly simplify preparation and possibly reduce the amount of people needed in handling it."

"Will it prevent camp diseases, I wonder?" Jaime put forth a notion.

"It depends, maybe," Hamakaze said. "I'm not an expert on matters pertaining health and diseases. That is more cousin Hyuuga's expertise."

"I can't wait to meet her," Tyrion said after he finished his portion. "A learned woman capable of smithing a magnificent sword. Surely a woman after my own heart."

"Oh dear," Jaime said, smiling.

"Not to break your heart my lord, but in Old Nihon a woman smithing weapons is required to take a vow of celibacy. Cousin Hyuuga is no different," Hamakaze said. "Kanayako of The Smithy is a jealous goddess. She would only let pure women enter her domain and learn her secrets."

"Ooh, there goes my poor heart, broken in pieces," Tyrion sighed theatrically. "That said, Lady Hamakaze, I've only heard of you talking about your religion just now."

"Mm, it's actually fairly similar to the Old Gods of the North," Hamakaze said as Calla collected the dishes from the four of them. "The term for the gods as a whole in our language is the _Yaoyorozu-no-Kami_... um, I don't quite know how to translate this into Westerosi language."

"The literal translation is Eight Million _Kami_... Eight Million Spirits, perhaps," Swordheart added.

"Eight million? Your people have more gods than the throne has debts," Jaime commented.

"Of course, it is a figurative idiom," Hamakaze replied. "We believe there is kami everywhere. In the rocks, in trees, in all creation. Even the bowls and utensils we had just used has gods governing it."

"I'd thought memorizing The Seven-pointed Star is difficult... how do you people keep track of that many gods?" Tyrion asked in wonder.

"Most of us can't, and indeed many years had passed since the line who is tasked to memorize their names went extinct," Hamakaze said. "However, all of us remember The Ten... greater gods, if you will. Father Izanagi Above, Mother Izanami Below, Susano'o of the War, Amaterasu of the Sun, Tsukuyomi of the Moon, Fuujin and Raijin of the Gale and Lightning, Kagutsuchi of the Flames, Ryuujin of the Storm, and Daikokuten of the Wealth. Sailors, captains, and seabound people like us tend to venerate the Sumiyoshi Three too, for they are the gods of sailing and travel in general."

"Interesting... and you worship them all?" Tyrion asked.

"In the olden days there are shrines and temples consecrated to a specific god, but they are mostly invoked in personal prayers," Hamakaze replied. "Like people here invoking the name of Father if they need to make a just decision, and so on."

"That is fascinating and all, but I'm more fascinated with your sword," Jaime said. "I had never saw anything quite like it even in the capital. Is it true that you sundered a sword in the scabbard with it?"

"It is called a katana, and I did that particular feat with Lionfang," Swordheart said after drinking a glass of mulled wine. "This is a practice blade copy of it made in Lannisport."

"I see... I must attend one of your training sessions soon, my lady," Jaime said. "I'm curious to see your swordsmanship."

"Your Lord Father and some of the pages will have a practice session this afternoon, actually... or whenever this heat would let off," Swordheart said amicably. "Mayhaps we can enlighten each other afterwards."

"Ohh, get a practice space you two," Hamakaze grumbled semi-seriously, prompting Tyrion to laugh.

* * *

...

* * *

"Evening, Swordheart," Hamakaze said from her seat on the long table as Swordheart took a place across her. "Not dining with other soldiers?"

"I feel like eating here," the female warrior said, wiping her brow with the sleeve of her garb. "So hot today. We erred on the side of caution and got our practice done in a room in The Rock."

"How does Lord Tywin scale against our warriors, actually? I'm curious..." Hamakaze said, poking on a piece of lamb.

"For his advanced age, I'd say he lands on a solid seven," Swordheart said, thanking a maid for her food. "I'd say he might have been a good sengoku general, maybe even someone like Toyotomi or Oda."

"Mm, I'd say. Lord Tywin did earn his laurels on the battlefield after all," Hamakaze said after swallowing a mouthful of potatoes. "First it was the latest Blackfyre Rebellion, and then the Reyne-Tarbeck Rebellion."

"Ah, Lady Swordheart! I apologize for not showing up to your training session," Jaime joined the two girls. "My head was just pounding this afternoon, I can't bring myself off my comfy bed. Two weeks of travels did that to me I'm afraid."

"It is understandable, Ser Jaime," Hamakaze said as a maid served him a plate of food. "I was struck by a bout of weakness myself, in fact. Swordheart were even forced to move the sword practice to a hall within The Rock due to heat."

"Truly? A most debilitating heat it is, then," Jaime said as a maid put the plate of food on his place on the table.

"Oh, there you are," Tyrion said as he sidled along and motioned for a maid to fetch him his taller chair before seating himself across Jaime. "We ought to make a supper club out of the four of us."

"Actually, that's a nice idea," Hamakaze noted as the maid swapped the emptied jug of wine for a full one.

So the dinner went, the four of them talking and swapping stories.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jaime finds the thing underwhelming.

It was morning when Jaime walked into the Great Hall, invigorated after a solid sleep. Only a handful of people were present, but the servers are already working in their full tilt. The head table is conspicuously empty.

"Ah, Cousin Jaime!" Daven Lannister waved from one of the long tables. "Saw you yesterday, but I was on my way inside. Dreadful heat."

"Cousin Daven," Jaime acknowledged the greeting. "I hope today would be better. You're quite early, by the by."

"It's generally an early day for everyone, lately," Daven replied. "Somebody lit a fire under our buttocks. Westerlander knightly pride is at stake."

"You mean Lady Swordheart?" Jaime said as a plate of breakfast was served before him.

"Ser Swordheart," Daven corrected the older man. "She told us that she is her liege lady's chief retainer. I think she said the term was… hatamoto? Banner-bearer, in our language."

"Surely you jest," Jaime said in an incredulous tone. "There were never a female knight in Westeros, ever."

"Theirs is a land far away, Brother. Their customs are not like ours, even if there are parallels," Tyrion said as he approached Daven and Jaime. "Beyond Volantis and the Basilisk Isles, if we theorize right. Sunken under the waves now, sadly… oh, what I would give for a chance to be there."

"You, little brother, are besotted," Jaime sniggered as Tyrion sat himself on his chair.

"How can I not?" Tyrion countered. "Ser Swordheart, steadfast and strong. Lady Hamakaze, clever and meticulous. Lady Suzutsuki, cheerful and deft. Ah, whoever of their twelve our lord father would choose, I will gladly wed. Just this once."

"Father offered them a betrothal already?" Jaime said incredulously after a short pause. "That… That's swift. Almost unlike his usual deliberations."

"We Lannisters always pay our debts, Brother," Tyrion replied, a solemn tone in his words. "They returned our uncle, a knight who had fought in the Ninepenny Kings' War. They returned Brightroar… well whatever was left of it in any case. They gave us the magnificent Lionfang, peerless blade like none other in Westeros. That is a massive debt, Brother. My hand in marriage… and the subsequent end of my fun, seems to be but a modest payment."

"Truly, a dire debt indeed," Jaime said with growing enthusiasm. "But Brightroar? That I must see."

"Just the half-melted hilt and a few inches of the blade, sadly. Maester Creylen thought it must have been buried in hot volcanic eruption for some time. We came to agree that dragonfire and volcano fire is about the same heat," Tyrion replied. "Father commisioned a sculptor to install a small pedestal for it in the Hall of Heroes, in front of King Tommen The Second's statue. Let's go there after breakfast."

"As my brother says," Jaime commented. "I wonder if Father would bind our houses even closer with other marriages. Perhaps Uncle Gerion would take a bride from them too?"

"A distinct possibility, though he had confided to me that he'll probably wait until after my wedding," Tyrion said.

"Knowing my father, he'll scramble to obtain a Kirino bride for me too," Devan said, chuckling.

"Who would it be, Cousin Devan?" Tyrion said, winking. "I have heard Uncle Gerion's stories. I heard he mentioned that Ser Swordheart has three sisters, if feisty woman are your jig."

"Goodness gracious no, Cousin Tyrion! I would rather wed a gentle, ladylike girl," Devan said after a short bout of laughter. "Failing that, well… Lady Suzutsuki seemed to be a good match."

"A sailor and fisherwoman extraordinaire, I am told," Tyrion replied after a swig of lemon water. "Live by the sea with her and you will probably never starve."

"Well, a small keep by the sea seemed like a good way to live, especially if I get to eat her delicious puddings!" Devan said as he stood. "Ah, look at the sun. Will you join us in practice today, Cousin Jaime?"

"Perhaps after I see Brightroar for myself," Jaime replied to the question.

"Then I shall see you later," Daven said before walking away.

"So, interested on challenging the lady knight?" Tyrion remarked after a few minutes of quiet eating.

"Aye. It's a swordsman thing, admittedly one I have not felt for some time," Jaime said after he swallowed a spoonful of soup. "Ser Barristan is my only challenge lately, and he's clearly in the wane."

"I suppose the clash is inevitable," Tyrion commented. "I want front row seats."

"I'll be sure to bring a stool for you," Jaime said. "But first, Brightroar."

* * *

…

* * *

"That… is a little underwhelming, isn't it," Jaime said, his eyes transfixed to the broken sword. The effigy of Tommen Lannister, the second of his name, loomed a few paces behind the pedestal. "I'm rather surprised Father doesn't put it in one of the vaults. Or his solar."

"It has little value beyond its materials. The edge is all gone, and you know how whetstone cannot be used to sharpen a Valyrian steel blade. The amount of the steel left on it makes it unlikely to be reworked to another blade," Tyrion said from beside Jaime as the elder brother marveled over the broken and blunted sword. "As for why he didn't put it in his solar… well, it is a reminder of grim times. House Lannister lost a king to it, and very nearly our uncle. I don't think he wants to admit it, but Father held Uncle Gerion in a higher esteem than we thought."

"Story of our lives, isn't it?" Jaime replied, sighing.

"Hear, hear," Tyrion said.

"Tyrion, I… Have you ever felt that Father has changed lately?" Jaime said, picking up Brightroar.

"All of Casterly Rock felt it, Brother. Our Lord Father seemed to have loosened his iron grip," Tyrion replied as Jaime took a few swing with the broken sword. "He now has a tendency of throwing a jape around. It was a rare occasion and the japes were dour and dreary, but all to the same effect."

"I know. It threw me off when it happened yesterday," Jaime said, leveling his edge towards a random statue.

"That's the thing. Nobody knows how to react when the big scary Lord Paramount starts to sling japes around," Tyrion said, snorting softly. "Well, except Uncle Gerion. We tend to follow his example."

"So, what's in for your day today?" Jaime said as he put down the sword on the pedestal.

"The library for me, I think. Lady Hamakaze has been reading about papermaking lately," Tyrion said as he kept pace with his brother, exiting the Hall of Heroes. "Though curiously enough, she said that she meant to recreate a food from her sunken homeland."

"…How can making paper and food align?" Jaime asked, his tone slightly unconvinced.

"Hell if I know. I have learned that with them, sometimes a leap of faith must be taken," Tyrion answered sagely.

* * *

…

* * *

Jaime descended the stairs to the proving grounds only to be met with relative silence. Various armsmen of House Lannister were crowded around the archery range, where Jaime can see two familiar women perusing them. The master-at-arms stood a little further away.

"Ser Broom," Jaime greeted the resident master-at-arms. "Unusual sight today, I see?"

"Oh, Ser Jaime," Broom replied as he turned to Jaime. "Ser Swordheart is instructing Lady Hamakaze on archery. I suppose it'll be a chance for the boys to see how archery is taught in foreign lands."

"Is that so…" Jaime said while rubbing his chin. A sound of arrow hitting wood rang, before a chorus of impressed voices from the gathered soldiers followed.

"Another solid hit to a target of thirty paces," Broom commented. "The lady is quite skilled."

"That's a unique bow, too. It all but dwarfed her size, and the grips are quite unlike the longbow we're familiar with," Jaime said as Swordheart signaled to change the target to a farther one.

"Quite a heavy pull, too… I tried it earlier, and I believe it pulls at around eighty to ninety pounds," Broom said.

"That can easily put an arrow through lesser plating over fifty paces or less," Jaime said as Hamakaze barely put an arrow on the target plate at fifty paces. "Ah, barely hit it."

"A fair showing, more so for a noblewoman. She shot ten shafts with that hard a bow, you have to respect the effort," Broom replied.

"True, true," Jaime said as he made his way to the range while Broom called for his soldiers to resume their drills. "My ladies! I never thought I'd meet you here, of all places."

"Ah, Ser Jaime," Hamakaze said while toweling her brow. "Evidently we had pulled a crowd by showing them how we do archery."

"You're a fair archer from what I see, Lady Hamakaze, especially if Ser Broom is correct in assessing your bow's pull," Jaime said, an easy smile on his lips.

"It is Swordheart's bow, a fair bit heavier in pull compared to the one I owned. I take you are proficient in archery too?" Hamakaze said, handing off the bow to Swordheart.

"About as good as any Redcloak, I suppose. Lady Swordheart, may I see your bow?" Jaime said.

"Please be careful," Swordheart said as she handed the bow.

"This bow is taller than even me… maybe even as tall as The Mountain," Jaime said, holding the bow by the grip. "And the hold is also different…"

"It is thought that our ancestors crafted the yumi for use while mounted," Hamakaze opined. "The uneven length would prevent it from snagging on underbrush or tall grass."

"Is that so… Might I try a shot with this bow, Lady Swordheart?" Jaime asked.

"I suggest wearing a glove on your nocking hand," Swordheart said. "Our gloves are made to fit, but a leather glove should suffice."

"I see… Well, it's too bad but I guess this'll have to wait," Jaime replied, handing the bow back to Swordheart as she turns to regard Hamakaze. "Do you often practice martial arts, my lady?"

"Back in the ships we make it at least a weekly routine to practice the bow and the… naginata, Ser Jaime," Hamakaze said.

"And what weapon do you prefer?" Jaime asked.

"Traditionally, non-combatants in Old Nihon are expected to have at least some proficiency with the bow and the naginata," Swordheart interjected. "According to Ser Broom, the naginata is equivalent to the glaive, here in the Westerlands."

"It is as my good kinsman said, Ser Jaime," Hamakaze said. "Evidently I have been rather… complacent since we came to The Rock."

"The womenfolk rarely practice martial arts in The Rock, true, and you too have duties and court to worry about," Jaime replied. "My lord father does not approve of women practicing martial arts, but I see he has changed a little from my boyhood days."

"Perhaps close contact with a foreign culture had made him reconsider," Hamakaze replied as an attendant brought two long poles to Swordheart. Jaime quietly noted that the lean poles have a short section of them padded and wrapped in some cloth.

"Time for your naginata lessons, Hamakaze-dono," Swordheart said.

"Then I shall not trouble you two any more, my ladies," Jaime said before retreating to the sidelines, giving the two ample space.

"I have not been late for the bout, I hope?" Tyrion said, approaching Jaime from the direction of the castle.

"Tyrion! I hadn't seen you there for a second," Jaime replied.

"That jape is pretty dull, brother," Tyrion shot back good-naturedly. "I was informed by one of the ladies that Lady Hamakaze had asked leave from knitting this morning to seek Ser Swordheart."

"As you can see, she is practicing archery and… the glaive," Jaime said.

"I had heard that Ser Swordheart is seeking to smith a lighter set of armor… evidently for Lady Hamakaze," Tyrion commented as Hamakaze went through a set of motions.

"Have you seen her personal armor, then?" Jaime asked.

"More of a half-plate than a full plate, I'd say. The breastplate is a single piece of steel that covers from her shoulder to the crotch, whereas the shoulder and waist would be covered with a scale-arranged plated pauldrons and skirts," Tyrion answered. "The gauntlets and vambraces, if it could be called one, are mostly padded cloth reinforced with steel plates. She would wore chainmail underneath all that."

"I see. Go for the legs and arms, then?" Jaime asked again.

"To you, The Mountain, or Sandor, I suggest so. To everyone else, I'd suggest putting something solid between her and them. Like a wall," Tyrion replied.

"That good?" Jaime said, his curiosity stoked.

"There is a rumor amongst the armsmen," Tyrion said in a low conspiratorial tone. "A few months ago, Ser Broom agreed upon a sparring match between Ser Swordheart and an unruly soldier. The first to gain three hits and halt, that sort of match."

"She trounced the soldier, I bet," Jaime replied.

"Yes… in one pass," Tyrion said, his eyes serious. "For each of three men saw her hitting the soldier, none saw the same thing. The soldier she faced said that he felt her hitting that three places at the same time."

"Daamn," Jaime said, impressed. "How on earth could she do that?"

"Whatever it is, please be careful when facing her, my brother," Tyrion said. "A lot is riding in this betting pool."

"Here I thought that you are concerned of my safety," Jaime replied after laughing.

"The unruly armsmen lived to see today, so she is holding a lot back at least," Tyrion said. "Besides, both of you are master swordsmen with people they must protect. Naturally you both will want to be alive after the bout."

"As the battle-lust kicks in, I'm not sure if it's the case," Jaime said, stretching his hands. "Ah, I better limber up for practice. Care to join me, brother?"

"No, thank you," Tyrion replied. "I'll just wait here to watch women cross spears."

"Suits you," Jaime said as he took off in a jog, intent on warming up.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which data are misinterpreted.

The sun rises somewhat higher as the practice goes, heating up the air around the practice courtyard. There were men practicing everywhere, pages and squires running around with their errands, and shouts of dismay and elation. Amidst the hustle and bustle of mid-morning drills, a young dwarf stood beside a cleared area, watching two girls engage in mock-spearfighting.

"Good day, Lady Hamakaze," Tyrion said in a loud voice as the taller girl called a stop. "Might I remind you that we are due to attend the afternoon session of court In a few hours?"

"Ah, Lord Tyrion," Hamakaze said, smiling as she handed her padded stick to an attendant. "You shouldn't have come so far out just to remind me of that."

"I suppose so, but coming out here seemed like a good exercise for me," Tyrion said. "Wine? This pouch is watered down of course."

"Not before lunch, but thank you all the same my lord," Hamakaze said as Tyrion took a sip from another pouch. "Shall we return to the halls? I will have to freshen up before lunch and court."

"So we shall. By your leave, Ser Swordheart? " Tyrion replied, before gazing to the woman warrior.

"I expect some improvement in our next practice, Lady Hamakaze," Swordheart said after nodding to Tyrion.

"I will, Swordheart," Hamakaze replied.

"Have you been able to wield the glaive for long, my lady?" Tyrion said as the duet walked away from the practice grounds. "Your movement seemed... a little unsure."

"I am more partial to archery, my lord," Hamakaze said as they walked. "My elder sisters Yamato and Amaha are better spearmen than I, but I am better at archery though not by far."

"Archery, hmm... seven moon-turns had passed and you continue to surprise me, my lady," Tyrion said. "I take that was what you practiced before the glaive session?"

"Yes. I was able to place an arrow on a target fifty paces away, although not on the dead middle," Hamakaze answered the question, smiling.

"Fifty paces? That is an excellent result for an archer who is possibly ten months out of practice," Tyrion said. "Considered a passable result in archery contests, too."

"Yes. Unfortunately Swordheart's bow is the only one available here, and hers has a lot more pull than mine thus affecting my accuracy," Hamakaze said.

"I'm sure with a few more months you'll be either more accustomed to the greater pull, or we can commission a bowyer to make a bow better suited for you," Tyrion replied.

"Have you ever try and practice archery, my lord?" Hamakaze asked. "While a longbow would be out of the question, I'm sure a shortbow would suit you adequately. Failing that, crossbows could be tailored to fit your size."

"No, I have not," Tyrion said, expression turning pensive. "Do you think I should have, Lady Hamakaze?"

"It would not be something too weird for a man to do, regardless of size," Hamakaze answered to Tyrion's question. "In Old Nihon the full breadth of a soldier's training is reserved for males, but even females has the right to practice the glaive and the bow. I have heard that there were some renowned female masters of those weapons."

"Such a queer kingdom," Tyrion commented. "I'm sure it was never taken by foreign armies, if even women might defend themselves with spears and arrows."

"Not for the lack of trying. The Wolfhorde, the Chin Empire, the Kingdom of Cho-Son..." Hamakaze recounted as they passed through a doorway into the castle proper. "Many has sought to bring The Empire of Nihon to its knees, but none succeeded."

"No doubt aided by its island origins," Tyrion said as they arrive at an intersection. "So, shall I meet you in the dining hall for a bit of a late lunch then?"

"That would be great, my lord," Hamakaze said as she took the direction to her quarters. "I'll see you later then?"

"So I shall," Tyrion replied, taking another fork to the dining hall.

* * *

...

* * *

"Just three moves, my lady? I had heard you to be a formidable fighter," Jaime said, approaching the practicing Swordheart.

"Ser Jaime," Swordheart said, acknowledging the blond-haired knight while still swinging her wooden blade. "It is my teacher's bidding to never forget the three blows my art of the sword are founded on."

"So you practice them all the time?" Jaime said.

"Never fear of men who know ten thousand ways to swing a sword, but always be wary for men who had swung a sword in one way for ten thousand times ," Swordheart countered, her repetition finished.

"Words to live by," Jaime said, nonchalant. "Lady Swordheart, would you spar with me?"

"Hmm," Swordheart said. "Whoever landed three blows with the sword win?"

"That's the idea," Jaime replied to the question.

"I will consent, but only with wooden swords," Swordheart said. "Squire Crakehall!"

"Yes Ser!" a brown-haired boy stepped from the sidelines.

"Bring a wooden sword for Ser Jaime, take from the stock we carved," Swordheart said. "Quickly to it."

"Yes Ser!" the squire took off after saying that.

"Only with wooden swords, Lady Swordheart?" Jaime asked, curious.

"For safety," Swordheart answered. "After all, the wood of our swords will break long before the steel of our arts."

"Also, who is that squire? I don't remember hearing Lyle getting married..." Jaime asked again, his eyes trailing to the direction the squire left for.

"Graeme Crakehall, a great-nephew of the current Lord Crakehall if I'm not mistaken," Swordheart said. "He has been a page for Ser Broom for a little over a year before we came. Ser Broom thought it prudent for him to squire for me."

"Ah yes... Tybolt had married after the rebellion but I doubt he would foster his child here," Jaime remarked. "Looks like a dilligent one, that boy."

"He is, though I think he has too much to learn," Swordheart said, rolling her shoulders. "I hesitate to teach him my sword arts, on account that he will probably need the Westerlander sword arts more."

"Sound reasoning," Jaime said. "He will someday be Tyrion's bannerman after all. But surely you have taught him something?"

"Mostly exercises and basics of bare-handed arts," Swordheart answered the question. "He took in well to both."

"Ser Swordheart, your wooden swords!" Graeme said as he came carrying a few wooden swords shaped like straight katana.

"Thank you, Squire Crakehall. You may remain on the sides to learn from this bout," Swordheart said.

"Graeme, boy! How is Crakehall?" Jaime asked as he pat the boy's shoulder. "Your uncle Lyle and I, our friendship go far back."

"They are well, Ser Jaime," the lad said, smiling a little more brightly as he handed Jaime one of the wooden swords.

"Now for the judge," Swordheart said, looking around.

"What is this? Are you two dueling already?" Benedict Broom said, smiling as he approached the two. Some idle armsmen has been gathering around them, forming a rough square.

"Two big roosters in a yard will always find a cause to squabble, Ser Broom," Swordheart said. "Will you be our judge for this bout?"

"Need you even ask, Ser Swordheart?" The master-at-arms said after a short laugh. "I daresay the lads has been waiting, if for the sake of their betting pool."

"This is only the first of many more, don't pay out just yet," Jaime said. "After all, my furlough has just begun."

"Very well. Land three hits and win, and try not to club each other too badly you two," Broom exclaimed. "Ten paces apart! Give them room, lads!"

There was a little hustle and bustle as the assembled idle armsmen stepped back, enlarging the rough square into a larger semi-circle.

"This seemed wide enough," Jaime said, smiling. "Here I go!"

Jaime unleashed a flurry of slashes and thrusts, but Swordheart is ready. She shifted to her right out of the way of a chop, evaded a quick thrust, and finally sidestepped an overextended slash before unleashing a single cut across Jaime's open side.

"One hit for Ser Swordheart!" Broom announced.

"Perhaps a best of five, now?" Swordheart taunted without changing her neutral expression, adopting a looser stance with his wooden blade pointing earthwards.

"That's a good one, Lady Swordheart," Jaime said, sneering as he exploded into motion. "Because that will be the last hit you stole from me!"

* * *

...

* * *

"You two fought today," Tyrion said, a sour note in his voice.

"It was a spar with wooden swords," Swordheart said succinctly.

"Breaking them and incurring a few injuries," Tyrion resumed his words, pointedly glaring at Jaime's scraped cheek, then at Swordheart's bruised hand.

"Aw, this is nothing much my brother," Jaime said, smiling. "Maester Creylen cleaned the wound thoroughly and said that the wounds will heal without problems."

"And no one saw it prudent to inform me," Tyrion said.

"To be fair, we are already busy at court. The land dispute even required Ser Kevan to inspect it in person," Hamakaze said, her expression somewhere around sheepish and placating.

"You too, Lady Hamakaze?" Tyrion sighed in an exaggerated exasperation. "Yes yes, gang up on the poor dwarf will you."

"If you are poor Tyrion, then House Lannister probably had fallen deep into poverty," Jaime japed. "Cheer up, brother. I even said to the assembled lads to not pay up on the bets just yet."

"You do realize that with that I have to recount the odds I'm going to put to the betting people," Tyrion said after a sigh. "And I have given a good odds in favor of you, too..."

"It was a close bout," Swordheart said after sipping on mulled wine. "And both of us weren't using proper weapons we are masters of."

"I won, of course!" Jaime cheerfully pointed out.

"By hitting me with the part of the blade that would be edgeless in a real katana," Swordheart said calmly. "Ser Broom corrected you a few times then invalidated further edgeless hits you kept on making."

"But I still beat you, fair as The Father!" Jaime said.

"No doubt by bruising most of my legs and torso," Swordheart groused.

"You two bicker like old married people," Tyrion snorted, apparently shaken off his earlier grouch.

"See Lord Tyrion, this is why we should just leave them on a training field all night to sort out all their pent-up aggression," Hamakaze said, sighing with a small pouty frown.

"And leave the field with a bastard? No, that will spark a debacle of the ages and both of our houses will fall into an eternal war," Tyrion said.

"Happy kittens, aren't you two," Jaime said, still smiling smugly. "Just make up your mind and marry the good lady, Tyrion!"

"Not until I lay my eyes on her other sisters and cousins, my brother," Tyrion said. "After all, who knows what I will be passing up."

"Wise man," Swordheart said, having finished her soup.

* * *

...

* * *

"That concludes the report for this month," Hamakaze said to the confrence of two other people on the circular garden table. The white room is scarcely decorated as usual.

"Good work," Yamato said after clapping her hand once. "At this point, I'm quite convinced that Tyrion will choose you anyway."

"It is within my expectation..." Hamakaze replied.

"However...?" the older woman said, sensing the hanging tone.

"He had said that he wishes to know more of Kirino ladies besides me, Suzutsuki, and Swordheart," Hamakaze said. "And he has a reputation as a womanizer..."

"Ah, a harem hero huh..." Hyuuga commented. "And you're worried that you will be the main heroine, get strung up in many shenanigans while the hero makes up his mind?"

"I... yes, it would seem so," Hamakaze said, her head hung low.

"Diplomatic," Yamato said. "You have learned much, Hamakaze. How about you, Yahagi?"

"Jaime Lannister is pompous and disdainful, but his abilities with a sword is indeed much better than an average armsman," Yahagi said. "I cannot beat him without resorting to quantic manipulations, yet. I hope he has not noticed."

"We hadn't detected any manipulations when you sparred with him this afternoon," Hyuuga said.

"I try not to show him too much of my abilities," Yahagi said. "Lull him into a sense of superiority. I think he held back too."

"How about the court, Hamakaze?" Yamato said. "It is different from the civil systems back home, isn't it."

"The system is quite unique, and I guess it's influenced with the much lower tech level. Nobles and smallfolks haggle and wrangle with everyday matters directly to the Lord Paramount. There are much conflict, yet there's little actual hate between them. Rivalry is prevalent, but not enmity." Hamakaze answered the question.

"Then how do the Westerlands compare to the center of the kingdom... Crownlands, was it?" Hyuuga opined.

"This realm seem to be much more ordered," Hamakaze said. "If Tyrion's extensive learnings about his father's stint as second-in-command of the deposed king is to be believed, the royal court is much more treacherous than the Westerlands despite the smaller size."

"Then Lord Tywin seemed to be a feared dictator... or maybe a despot," Yamato said. "More dictator, if Castamere is to be considered a measure."

"Then, any news we should be aware of?" Yahagi asked.

"We have successfully retrieved Kirishima and Haruna from their landing site. The cover stories for them are being prepared as we speak," Yamato said. "They first touched down with Makie Osakabe in the Rhoyne River Valley area, but they managed to survive for a few days. Then the battleships encountered something of a concern and elected to stay for further research."

"Apparently, there are already nanomachines here before we touched down," Hyuuga said. "They have a distinct quantic signature from ours, but their non-aggregating nature makes it difficult to detect them unless there is a significant amount of them. The River Rhoyne has high concentrations of them, especially halfway to two-thirds upriver. After Haruna brought data about this, I uploaded a new search algorithm to the satellites and ran a wide scan on the Home Waters and found faintly-detectable pockets of signatures."

"That sounded like a cause for concern," Hamakaze asked. "Do these rogue nanomachines pose a threat?"

"Mental Models like us wouldn't have to be overly concerned, but we will have to be very careful not to expose humans to this rogue strain, especially Makie as she is immuno-compromised," Hyuuga answered the question. "I've been working with her to tweak the medication regime she is in. Hopefully we can come up with solutions."

"I see. Is there any other homeland news we must be aware of?" Hamakaze asked again.

"We have detected a brief surge of quantic anomaly, far to the north of the Westeros landmass," Hyuuga said. "It was a brief upsurge of large amounts of energy followed with deep spatial folding, much like an uncontrolled Thanatonium reaction. It lasted a little less than ten seconds. Little miracle that we even detected it, considering we only have two or three satellite sensors trained to that region."

"Then we are... definitely not alone?" Hamakaze asked.

"I'm thinking that could be Maya," Yamato said, smiling.

* * *

...

* * *

"Are preparations... ready?" a crowned figure sitting on a throne asked.

"Yes, our king," an aide answered

"Then we shall begin the ritual," the monarch said. "As dictated by The Core."

"As dictated by The Core," the aide dutifully repeated.

The monarch nodded, and the aide beckoned a gaggle of servants bearing trays. The monarch inspected the four trays, each with a fist-sized red crystal. The short inspection concludes with the crowned figure nodding and pointing to four pedestals around a circle of rock and ice. The four aides then placed the red crystals on them, joining a gaggle of revelers standing outside the circle.

"Begin!" The monarch shouted.

Thus, the chanting started. Harsh and guttural language fills the air, every word spoken and chanted with seeming reverence. An eerie blue glow started to emanate from the circle, its strength waxing along with the rising volume of the chanting.

"Step forth!" the monarch shouted, and an opaque ice-blue whirlwind shooting up at his command. There were no shouts of dismay or elation, only an air of expectation.

Such expectation were answered with a violent dissolution of the whirlwind, leaving a kneeling young woman in the middle of the circle. She gingerly rose from her knees, putting her black clawlike hand in front of her face, letting a glimmer of pale reflected light dance on her hand. Her grayish pale skin a contrast with her black clothes, not at all suited for the icy temperature.

"The Otherworld... has answered," the monarch exclaimed. "Whom has they sent?"

"I... am..." the green lady said, her whisper barely audible. Her claw-like black hand beckoned something, and immediately the icy circle flared again, this time with sickly-green light. The fabric of space contorted, slowly revealing a black weapon, longer than the lady is tall and twice wider than she is broad, adorned with cruel spikes and having a great sickle-like head.

"Othersteel...!" the monarch rasped.

The green lady said nothing, before she twirled the great sickle-like weapon with surprising grace and dexterity. Three turns it went around her body, and she suddenly closed the gap between the monarch and her then swung the scythe towards him. The monarch, stunned by the display of prowess, had only half the blink of an eye to muster a defense.

"You...!" the monarch grunted, his hastily-formed sword of ice creaking against the green and black scythe.

"I..." the green woman breathed. She quickly pulled the weapon, jostling the monarch off-balance. The monarch tried to step back, but a length of black chain wrapped suddenly around his neck. The monarch then fell forward as the green lady yanked, impaling himself on the back edge of the woman's scythe. His body turned to gray ash, before dissolving to an errant gust of wind.

The stunned congregation stilled before the woman in black and green smashed the back of her weapon to the engraved circle, causing a loud noise. She then spoke as eerie green light erupted from the circle, her voice as loud and windy as a blizzard.

"I am... Dead Master... and the dead... kneels to me."

The room kneeled as one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding Dead Master, I feel the need of bringing in an equivalent force that would give a challenge to the Fog-backed Seven Kingdoms. If one gonna give Robb Stark a lightsaber, one gonna have to give Tywin Lannister a Death Star. And since I've given Tywin Lannister a Death Star, I might as well give the Others the Starkiller Base. Always a bigger fish for the Westerosi shounen powerfantasy.
> 
> (Yeah, I know that sounds a bit DBZ, but she's not gonna penetrate The North from the rear just yet. All in due time.)


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the writer stalled for time using a Japanese folklore.

"Good morning, Makie," Hyuuga said as a child entered the conference room.

"Good morning too, Hyuuga," Makie replied with a smile. "What's for breakfast?"

"402 is preparing a tuna carpaccio," Hyuuga said, gesturing to a steaming mug of drink on the table. "How was your sleep last night?"

"Mm, the mattress is a bit hard," Makie replied after she drank the warm drink. "Is Haruharu and Yotarou going to be here soon?"

"They are doing decontamination en route, so they won't be here for about three days more. We're still scanning for Maya," Hyuuga said, sliding a PDA across the table to Makie. "I have here a report of the dissection of a human afflicted with Rogue-type Nanomachine Syndrome last night. It seemed that are indeed quite a menace to the human body."

"Oh wow… now I see why you had me moved to the second facility," Makie commented as she leafed through the PDA. "I only know the basics of physiology, but this… this is barely human, if anything. The skin's all hard and stuff."

"Yep. With calcified skin like that, the only functioning dermal sensory nerves remaining are the pressure-sensitive ones, located deeper into the skin," Hyuuga said. "And that's before the changes to the nervous systems and musculature itself. It's like…"

"Something from old manga…?" Makie replied. "Once this disease reached critical point, even eating would be a struggle. They're going to live… three, five years max, with good care."

"By modern standards, that is. With the general technology level? No chance of more than two. Any population increase is solely from new infections," Hyuuga huffed. "Any progress with your medications against this?"

"I really can't say… I have several ideas for strengthening my immune system against specific threats, but the baseline drugs seemed to be holding well for the moment and I see no need to replace or improve it just yet," Makie replied to the question. "But against this… I'm not even sure if my immune system… no, make it the human immune system, can recognize and react fast enough. This is a bit like prion diseases actually…"

"Alright. We'll put you in a containment suit if we need your direct presence in dangerous areas. A noblewoman wearing gloves at all times won't look out of place, and kimono by nature is quite an all-encompassing garb… but we can shelve that in the backburner for now," Hyuuga said, sighing.

"Oh, I saw the schematics and progress report on the Crabs!" Makie said happily. "The specs are even better than the original! How many will you field?"

"No more than a platoon or two, maybe… more will attract undue attention. We're still stuck with the operating systems and AI anyway," Hyuuga replied, sighing. "Do you have any ideas about them?"

"OS and AI are not really my expertise, I'll take a look at the codes for errors at least," Makie said. "How about weapons? I can help a lot with that…"

"I write a tidy code, thank you very much!" Hyuuga replied with mock indignation. "We thought not to mount any weapons for the moment, though we made some hardpoints for it. Fleet Flagship pitched the idea of a melee weapon, but it's still in the air for now."

"Cool, I can work with that! Now let's take a look at this code…" Makie said as she peered to the code she opened in her PDA.

* * *

…

* * *

"Point to Ser Swordheart, and halt!" Broom announced as the two combatants simmer down and loosened their stances. "That is one more win for her. I see the capital has a way of softening the best sword in the kingdom, Ser Jaime."

"Ser Jaime never made my wins easy," Swordheart said, countering the jape. "I believe we're just about even after… six bouts now?"

"That it is," Jaime said, smiling while giving the swords-woman a friendly pat on the back. "A long time ago, my twin sister fancied herself the best woman in Westeros if given a sword. My eyes are opened now, Ser Swordheart! I can safely say now you are better than most of the Kingsguard."

"High praise do not befit me, Ser Jaime," Swordheart said. "Thank you for your arbitration, Ser Broom."

"It is of no concern. The bouts between the two of you are always a sight to behold, no matter how it was fought," Broom replied.

"Thank you all the more, good Ser," Jaime added before the master-of-arms bowed and retreated, ushering onlookers away for the spectacle is done. "I still can't believe I had lost thrice now. The first two bouts I won, then twice you won, and these last two we shared one each."

"There are more to learn in defeat than victory, Ser jaime," Swordheart said. "I believe your problem is lack of training quality and repetitions. Your blows are powerful and your reflexes impeccable, but your movement lack precision and thus cause you to tire faster."

"Oh, how easy it is to win and then share your wisdom from up high," Jaime sighed cynically.

"If you defeat a true warrior, three days later you will not face the same man... so my teacher said," Swordheart said.

"If I had not known that the two of you are vowed to celibacy, I'd say you are two lovers enjoying each other's gentle touches," A voice from closer to ground said. "And muddy the betting odds ever more, will you. At this rate I can't give the lads anything better than even odds."

"Ah, Tyrion! So nice to have you join in the yard, and for the same reasons for once," Jaime said, finding Tyrion walking to him with a shortbow in hand and a quiver across his back.

"How bade his lessons, Hamakaze-dono?" Swordheart said to Hamakaze, who followed the dwarf not three paces behind.

"The mind is willing, the body is not," Hamakaze said, her tone almost apologetic.

"Alas, my lord father has been proven right all this time," Tyrion sighed at Hamakaze's assessment. "My bow-arm is weak and my aim shaky. I feel this craft is beyond my body, unlike stealth and tumbling."

"I will refrain judgement until after your first moon-turn, Lord Tyrion," Swordheart said. "You had landed one arrow on target for each practice, after all. There is hope yet."

"If you children has finished playing at soldiery, I would have my training now, thank you very much," Tywin Lannister made his presence known with a harsh retort.

"Oh, Father," Jaime said, bowing to his father. The gesture were repeated by the three other people.

"Tyrion, Kevan will hold the afternoon court today," Tywin said, his harsh tone directed to his youngest. "I expect nothing less."

"I obey, Lord Father," Tyrion said after a short and exaggerated bow, before turning at his heels and leaving.

"By your leave, Lord Tywin," Hamakaze said, bowing to the Lord Paramount's careless wave of hand before she followed Tyrion into the castle proper.

"Father, surely…" Jaime started a sentence before he is stopped by Tywin's exaggerated gesture of drawing his practice katana. _His stance is as similar as it is to the warrior lady_ , Jaime noted.

"If he is to be in charge of this castle one day, his mind must be twice better than your hand with a sword," Tywin said. "Now, he is not yet there and he will not be closer by launching blunt arrows to a bale of hay. Ser Swordheart?"

"Today we shall repeat the sequences from last time and learn how to incorporate parries into them, my lord," Swordheart said, and Jaime backs away to a nearby long bench set up by Graeme.

"Clean water, Ser Jaime?" Graeme said while proffering a waterskin to the warrior.

"Thank you, Squire Crakehall," Jaime said as he pat the boy. "Are you not attending to your knight?"

"Ser Swordheart bade me to observe when she is having a spar or instructing," Graeme replied, smiling as Jaime drank a few mouthfuls from the waterskin. "That, and I still study swordsmanship with other squires under Ser Broom."

"How about your study of the so-called fist arts?" Jaime asked.

"Ser Swordheart teaches and reviews the forms every other day, but forbade me to use it," Graeme answered. "She said it will be useless against adults and too dangerous for other children."

"Is that so? Highly curious! Surely she won't mind a display," Jaime said, laughing a little. "Let me see your repetition, boy!"

"Yes Ser!" Graeme said.

* * *

…

* * *

The Queen of The Seven kingdoms strode with purpose. With Jaime off in their homeland and Robert gallivanting in hunts and whores, Cersei Baratheon whiled her time away with embroidery and luncheons. Even that couldn't slake a recent nagging thirst she had developed.

"Good evening, Lord Varys," Cersei said amicably as Varys opened the door to his room, gesturing the two Kingsguards trailing her to stand guard outside. "I have a need of information."

"Most certainly, Your Grace. What is it do you wish to know?" Varys said, pouring a glass of wine for the queen. "If my little birds has sung their songs about it, I would be happy to tell you."

"It is about Casterly Rock," Cersei said, leaning to the front. "I understand that Lord Gerion, my uncle, has came back bringing… guests."

"The homecoming was a most joyous occasion, my little birds reported," Varys replied. "Although the welcoming feast was rather modest due to its haste, I had heard."

"Is that so," Cersei said, accepting the glass of Arbor Gold.

"There were three guests introduced to Casterly Rock in that feast," Varys said after some deliberation. "One went back after a moon-turn, but the other two had stayed. One, I believe her name is Swordheart, has been training your lord father in swordsmanship."

"Preposterous… my father is a great warrior. Why would he seek training with the sword, to a woman nonetheless?" Cersei asked, her tone an accusation.

"Oh, but this Swordheart has another name, Your Grace," Varys answered the question in a tittering tone. "I believe it is… The Sunderer. She gained it by cleaving The Hound's sword in two with a single slash. All the songs from my little birds agree this happened in your nuncle's welcoming feast."

"A mummer's trick, nothing more," Cersei seethed.

"If that was a mummer's trick, would your lord father trust her enough to teach her?" Varys probed with a question. "Would the woman have enough time to tamper with the weapon of your father's squire?"

"…Maybe," Cersei defiantly grunted.

"Perhaps, perhaps not. Either way, Lord Tywin was swayed," Varys continued his tale. "The authenticity of the feat notwithstanding, she still brought a magnificent foreign blade for House Lannister. I imagine your lord father is keen in mastering the foreign weapon… a beautiful blade of black and silver, my little birds agree in broad strokes."

"Valyrian steel…" Cersei whispered as realization dawned.

"I should surmise so… though my little birds' songs seem to dispute whether the sword was Brightroar, Blackfyre, or another blade altogether, Your Grace," Varys said, rubbing his chin. "Whatever the blade was, it is probable that it was remade in a style foreign to Westeros. Thus, the extra tutelage is needed from a swordsman proficient of it."

"I suppose Father would dispose of her after he mastered the blade," Cersei grunted.

"Moving on… there is also a very recent song about a much-touted sparring match between her and Ser Jaime. I believe it to be the first of many more," Varys replied, sighing. "She was surprisingly… or should I say un-surprisingly, a fair match for him. She even managed to leave… a profound keepsake on his cheek."

"That bitch…" Cersei all but growled.

"Would you like to hear about the other one, my queen?" Varys asked as he refilled Cersei's glass.

"We might as well," Cersei sighed, the wine worked its calming effect.

"My little bird sang about a maiden clever and fair, beautifully blossomed though her hair is ashen gray. Combined with her blue eyes it made for an unusual coloring, even for those of Valyrian blood," Varys said. "A continual fixture in Casterly Rock's court, dilligently noting the coming and going of the chief court of the Westerlands. Her name is Hamakaze, of the House Kirino."

"A whore-spawn from Volantis my nuncle picked up, no doubt. That House is unknown and likely false," Cersei said acidly. "A jest, brought in by a jokester."

"Her skills are diverse, from the sums to sewing to cooking to music to spearfighting. A woman of many trades, although I'm sure to be master of none," Varys replied. "Many of the armsmen and minor nobles had begin to develop… a certain endearment for the girl."

"Perhaps one of them might be persuaded by the might of the crown to… handle her," Cersei said, smiling as an idea formed in her head.

"It would be an unwise path to pursue, Your Grace… for it is well-known that the Old Lion's claw is long and sharp," Varys said, his tone cautioning. "Lord Tywin has offered a betrothal between her and Lord Tyrion… dire indeed would Lord Tywin's wrath be if his will is to be defied."

"What…? That harlot seeked to worm her way into the riches of Casterly Rock? She ought to hang from its gibbet instead!" Cersei hissed.

"Whatever your lord father had thought when the betrothal is made is sadly beyond me, Your Grace," Varys said. "And the girl has gotten far into Lord Tywin's good graces. The little birds sing of a new kind of trail rations being developed by her, as well as sumptuous desserts of foreign cuisine."

"Casterly Rock is Jaime's by right," Cersei seethed again in so many minutes.

"Will there be any more need of me, Your Grace?" Varys asked, sensing his queen's seething temper.

"…No, my lord. You have been most… helpful," The queen said, standing up and ready to turn at her heels.

"Always for the good of the realm, Your Grace," Varys said, bowing as the queen spared a last glance before leaving the spymaster's chamber.

* * *

…

* * *

"Lord Tyrion!" Hamakaze called into the locked door after a few knocks. "Lunch is being served…"

"Go 'way!" Tyrion shouted, muffled by the door to the room proper.

"Ah… Can't I change your disposition, my lord?" Hamakaze replied.

"No!" Tyrion replied with a note of anger.

"Very well then," Hamakaze replied, a sigh escaping her lips. "I'm sure I can wait you out."

"Are… you still there, Lady Hamakaze?" Tyrion said after a few minutes of silence, as if on a queer whim.

"Yes, Lord Tyrion," came her reply.

"You will be late for the court, you know," Tyrion said after a long sip of his goblet. "A tantrum is expected of me… my father knows that. But you… you need to be present. It is your duty… your mission."

"Doubtless Lord Tywin knows that too, Lord Tyrion," Hamakaze replied. "But why come if no one would explain to me what I cannot comprehend?"

"You need not to suck up to me, my lady,"Tyrion grumbled from behind the door. "Anyone can do that."

"Yes, but today nobody would. Ser Gerion seemed to be absent from breakfast and Ser Kevan will preside as judge. Moreover, no one else is quite as knowledgeable and eloquent as you, my lord," Hamakaze answered to the question.

"Your flattery is wasted on me, but do come in. I would be a rather petulant host if I talked to you from behind closed doors," Tyrion finally acquiesced, opening the door only to find Hamakaze tumbling backwards from the doorframe to the floor.

"Oww…" Hamakaze whined as she rubbed her sore side.

"You are one queer little lady, you know that," Tyrion said, sighing as Hamakaze picked herself up. "Wine? To ease the pain of your fall, if anything."

"It is nearing noon, so I suppose a few cups would not… be bad," Hamakaze said before she drank the offered wine. Her eyes swept around the room as she drank the wine, finding shelves lined with books and trinkets of curiosity. "Your room is… very you, Lord Tyrion."

"It is. It can't be anything but," Tyrion grunted as his guest sat on a chair. "Ah… this betrothal is a mistake. Who in the right sane mind would marry a short monkey like me."

"Ah, but sometimes, just sometimes, a monkey in the right place and time might find itself ruling a realm," Hamakaze said, her eye lighting up with a happy twinkle. "Have I ever told you about The Three Unifiers of Nihon, Lord Tyrion?"

"I do not know," Tyrion replied, his tone uninterested. "Is it relevant to matters at hand?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Hamakaze replied. "But I see a lot of similarity between you and one of them."

"One is a midget borne of one of the most influential lords of the realm?" Tyrion shot back, pouring himself more wine.

"Not… exactly," Hamakaze said, a note of caution in her words. "But then again, none of them came from lofty origins. The First, Nobunaga Oda, was the son of a disgraced lord whose sole remaining lands is named 'Owari', the end of land. The Third, Motoyasu Matsudaira, was the son of a marcher lord who warred incessantly with Lord Oda the elder."

"But The Second…" Tyrion said, catching the omission.

"Hideyoshi… of the House Kinoshita, then the House Hashiba, and of the House Toyotomi before he died. The Demon's Monkey, they call him behind closed doors," Hamakaze said, weaving the beginnings of her tale. "A man of obscure birth, entered to the soldiery of House Oda, married into low nobility, then kept climbing and climbing until he finds himself amongst Lord Oda's most trusted men. His lord's opinion of him can swing from quiet approval to public disdain with little reason. That, and he is reportedly rather short."

"Heh. I'm sure he is not deformed, at least," Tyrion commented.

"No, but the court of Nihon can be… notoriously finicky about the standards of beauty," Hamakaze replied. "One of the olden court chronicles recorded a noblewoman vomiting because a lord she was talking to has tan skin."

"Now we are going in tangents," Tyrion herded the conversation back to the intended route. "This Hideyoshi… this Demon's Monkey, as you say. What manner of a man is he, that you likened me to him? "

"There was a little story when they were allied, before the turbulent time settled," Hamakaze said as tyrion filled her goblet. "A retainer under them gifted Lord Oda a beautiful songbird, a nightingale of distinguished pedigree and beautiful colors. Lord Oda was proud and displayed the bird in his lounge, but the bird would not sing."

"What of the bird?" Tyrion said after a short sip. "If his ominous moniker of 'Demon' is true, I'm sure Lord Oda would sooner kill it for being so obstinate."

"I'm impressed, Lord Tyrion. You figured a third of the story already, ufufu," Hamakaze giggled. "And Lord Oda's proper self-styled nickname is the 'Demon Lord of Sixth Heaven', if you must know."

"…He is actually named that?" Tyrion said, taken aback.

"Lord Oda was infamous for his style of lightning warfare in the battlefield, and equally infamous for his rather unstable disposition," Hamakaze said. "His enemies tries to vilify him with that name."

"I see… What of the bird, then?" TYrion said, nodding.

"Lord Oda nearly killed the bird, but Lord Matsudaira bade him to wait. Lord Matsudaira was fond of pet birds himself, and was said to have possessed several obstinate songbirds like this one," Hamakaze said, resuming her story. "He was of the opinion that any bird, when given enough time, would eventually sing."

"Then what of… Hideyoshi?" Tyrion asked.

"Lord Hideyoshi went and asked around, for he knows that the breeders of such bird must have tricks of raising such creatures," Hamakaze replied. "He then gathered several types of insects and tried to feed it to the songbird. The songbird turned out to like grain-worms, and sung like no bird has sung before."

"Then he was in the right all along…" Tyrion said after a sip of wine.

"Yes, but Lord Matsudaira's opinion has its own merit. Had they not waited, Lord Hideyoshi might not have found the solution. Before all that there's Lord Oda's opinion, which has a merit on itself. Who are to say that the mute songbird would ever sing?" Hamakaze said, explaining the resoning. "It was said that Nobunaga reaped the wheat of prosperity, Hideyoshi baked it into the bread of unity, and Motoyasu distributed it to the people of Nihon, earning the whole nation immortality. One reaped for it, one worked for it, and one waited for it."

"I see…" Tyrion sighed.

"Without either of the three, The Empire of Nihon would have not been united and strong," Hamakaze said. "It would probably relapse into what it was before The Unification. It would collapse back to petty warlords warring with each other while being nominally loyal to the emperor, not the strong realm that repelled the ambitions of The Wolfhorde's Kuburai Khan."

Tyrion lets out a small sigh. There was another beat of silence as Hamakaze looked into Tyrion's mismatched eyes with a gentle gaze.

"It was a stimulating tale that fills me with wonder, my lady," Tyrion said after a beat of silence. "You have a way with words."

"I learned from the best, my lord," Hamakaze replied, a soft smile on her lips and a wink in her eyes.

"Shall we be off, then? I'm sure the court would not mind us showing up with a loaf of bread and a glass of wine since we missed lunch," Tyrion said after he tidied his clothes.

"I would not settle for anything less," Hamakaze said before a small giggle.

* * *

…

* * *

"Ah, the lovebirds comes," Jaime noted as Hamakaze and Tyrion sat across and beside him.

"Very funny, Jaime," Tyrion replied good-naturedly. "Where's Ser Swordheart? She's your lovebird if you insist of putting the both of us on the same rowboat."

"With the armsmen, I think," Jaime replied. "She liked the stew they serve as supper some days."

"She is simply keeping her palate fresh, I think," Hamakaze opined. "Her palate may not always agree to rich lordly meals."

"Hmph… weird woman," Jaime scoffed. "Anyways Tyrion, how about the betting pot?"

"Even odds at fifty dragons," Tyrion said. "People are quite antsy after your latest bout, to be honest. I'd urge you two to settle it soon."

"I might as well. We would be departing for Tommen's tourney soon," Jaime said.

"Is it late now for another wager to the pot, Lord Tyrion?" Hamakaze asked.

"To whom, my lady?" Tyrion asked.

"To my kin, of course," Hamakaze said. "I heard that you never bet against your brother, so I'll take cue and not bet against Swordheart."

"And the amount?" Tyrion said.

"Ten dragons," Hamakaze replied.

"Betting against the betmaster?" Tyrion said. "Why, I can't help to take this as a personal challenge my lady."

"Why, are you backing out of this challenge, my lord?" Hamakaze answered with a question of her own, smirking.

"You are on, my lady," Tyrion said, a lopsided grin on his face.

"Oh, you two are insufferable," Jaime snarked.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jaime picks up a shield instead of a second sword.

The night was young, and the day had been long. Swordheart sat in the soldier's hall, again having elected to sup with the soldiers instead of with the nobles. Around her the houseguards of Casterly Rock dined and relaxed, some playing games with each other while some nursed their rationed pale beer. Some guards patted her back jovially, a gesture she returned with a smile.

Three-fourths of her stew finished, the crowd gradually stilled. A golden-haired warrior, renowned on the land, stepped into the hall. In relative silence, the warrior approached the woman.

"Ser Swordheart," Jaime said, towering over the eating woman. Many eyes of the soldier's mess hall has already been drawn by the presence of the Golden Lion, and now with every step the crowd held its breath for the conclusion.

"Ser Jaime," Swordheart replied, looking up from her almost-finished bowl of stew before standing.

"I challenge you to a duel," Jaime said, dropping a leather glove to the ground by Swordheart's feet. "To the first fall."

"I accept your challenge," the warrior woman replied, picking up the dropped glove before handing it back to the owner. "Three days from now?"

"As good time as it is. Three days from now, a duel to the first fall, midmorning, in full armor and tourney weapons," Jaime hashed out the details of the fight before exclaiming. "I have it on good authority that our betmaster shall settle your bets then, boys!"

The loud cheer that ensued then drowned any further conversation between the two warriors.

* * *

…

* * *

"Then… the dices were cast?" Yamato said, sitting with her fingers steepled in front of her face. The white room was as plain as always.

"Yes. The duel has been set to commence in three days," Yahagi replied, her arms crossed on her chest.

"I see. Can you win?" Yamato asked, leaning forward.

"It will be a close thing, at best," Yahagi explained. "I have made a pattern map of Jaime Lannister's fighting moves and is going to simulate it in the days leading to the fight. However, there is an inherent unpredictability in a human's fighting… that will open a possibility of loss even if I use the full breadth of the quantic manipulation ability currently available to my mental model."

"Well, probability is a part of life after all," Yamato said. "How about you, though? Are you confident you can defeat him without resorting to quantic manipulations?"

"To tell you the truth, not really," Yahagi said. "I might be able to get away with forcing a mirror-match, but that could not be a good thing to our image. I tried to devise a counter for his style of fighting, but find that I could only counter about 58% of his basic movements without resorting to quantic manipulation."

"How about if you cut loose?" Yamato said. "You can transfer the upkeep and administration duties for the hull to Shiomaru for the duration of the duel."

"The percentage rises to about 71%... not perfect," Yahagi said. "A battleship core can perhaps reach a hypothetical 100% counter..."

"Such is the risk of the role, I guess," Yamato replied. "Yahagi, believe in me that believes in you, at least."

"That… is a roundabout way to say it, Fleet Flagship," Yahagi said in a deadpan.

"You have shown the ability to intuit your way," Yamato said, smiling. "Now this is your greatest test yet, against Jaime Lannister."

"I suppose so," Yahagi said, sighing.

* * *

…

* * *

The morning starts like any other summer morning, bright and breezy. The dining hall was abuzz with excitement, with Tyrion in a corner bent over a small square of parchment.

"Good morning," Jaime said, pulling over across Tyrion. "Last-hour adjustments?"

"As you could see," Tyrion replied. "I've closed the pot yesterday. All the names and amounts has been noted. How are you feeling this morning?"

"Pretty good. I dreamed that I won today," Jaime replied, a cocky smile on his lips. "I wonder if Father would say anything to stop us."

"He surely knew," Tyrion said. "Father is the greatest lord there is, and no lord worth their salt ignored the comings and goings in his own castle. That, and Uncle Gerion's bet is fairly large at seven dragons."

"Surely you can't surmise that fact from the amount of bets alone?" Jaime asked.

"Uncle Gerion accepts a monthly salary befitting of his position, and unless Father paid for the salary owed while Uncle was out adventuring in Valyria, I don't think he has that amount of coin to spend," Tyrion answered the question. "And while Father can be generous, I'm not sure he is that generous."

"I guess," Jaime said as a bowl of steaming soup was set in front of him.

"Lady Hamakaze," Tyrion said as another bowl was set in front of him. "A new innovation?"

"Of a sort," Hamakaze answered. "A light breakfast for us all."

"Where is my adversary? Is she cowering in her room?" Jaime japed while turning his bowl of food. "I ought to call this food Rock Worm. It's from The Rock and looks like worms…"

"Swordheart is… having some quiet contemplation in her quarters. It's a thing that our warriors do," Hamakaze answered the question. "I had her portion delivered."

"Looks watery, but deceptively rich… This is definitely not Master Orton's cooking," Tyrion commented after swallowing a mouthful.

"It's packed with energy," Hamakaze said. "It has dried cod, clams, and chicken in its stock… all good ingredients to eat before a war, according to our beliefs."

"Tasty, at least," Jaime said between mouthfuls.

"Oh, none left for I?" Gerion Lannister said as he came to the trio and sat across Hamakaze.

"Ah… well, I think I have some stock left but I'm all out of mein unless we are to boil some more, Ser Gerion…" Hamakaze blurted. "I'm sorry!"

"Haha! No matter, I've eaten my fill for this morning," Gerion said, a smile blooming on his face. "I've just a few select words with my nephews here."

"We are listening, Uncle," Tyrion said.

"Far it is for me to forbade duels of honor like you are going to embark on, Jaime… fought a few myself on the very grounds actually," Gerion said. "But always be careful. Do not do things you would later regret."

"It's only to the first fall, Uncle," Jaime replied, only dregs remaining in his bowl. "We're in full armor and with tourney weapons, too."

"I suppose that much, but I need not point that The Stranger collects his due at the strangest times," Gerion said, his tone low and somber.

"Thank you for the advice uncle, but I need to prepare," Jaime said as he stood up. "Thank you Lady Kirino."

"Ah, the hot-headedness of youth," Gerion mused before turning to Tyrion. "I expect the good news now, Nephew!"

"You will be informed promptly of the result, Uncle," Tyrion said, before the older house-knight stood up.

"I shall be at the court this morning, and mayhaps again at the afternoon," Gerion said before leaving. "Have a good day, you two!"

* * *

…

* * *

"It is time," Swordheart said, opening her eyes from the quiet trance she was in. Nearby, her squire Graeme stirs from polishing her armor. "Squire Crakehall, help me put on my raiments."

"At once, Ser!" the eager squire said before leaping into action.

The next half-hour was spent in relative silence as Swordheart guided Graeme in putting on the peculiarly-styled armor. She started from below, putting a pair of padded breeches in place of her more usual _hakama_ baggy pants and a crotch-length of chainmail over her customary _gii_. After that, came the pairs of shin-and-knee guards and boots, secured towards the back by lengths of rope. Over those, the squire then helped Swordheart put on a steel-reinforced _haidate_ skirt, covering her hips until just over the knee protector. After that, she donned the laminated _kote_ armguards, tying the left and right ones together at the back after the main holding straps are tied to the sides. After that, came the main _do_ breastplate, the front and back piece of the crotch-length armoring fastened to each other by the shoulder and sides to provide most of the protection to the torso of its wearer. With most of the armoring done, Swordheart then wore her sword-sash around her armor's waist, a length of cotton cloth three and a half times the circumference of the armor's waist. That done, she then fitted a face-guard extending to the upper middle part of her chestpiece, before donning a cloth padding on top of her head. The final piece of the armor was the helm, which the squire handed to her gingerly as not to tangle the lamellar neck plating.

"It is done," the female warrior said as she tied the chin-straps of the helmet, before finally nudging a few pins on her faceplate for a few seconds and sealing her facial armoring with a click. "Thank you, my squire."

"A-are you confident in winning, Ser?" Graeme asked as he gave Swordheart the sheathed tourney katana they have prepared. The female warrior then fastened it on her sword-belt.

"I believe in my body, my skills, and my equipment," Swordheart said as she patted the youngster's head. "And the only loss I can incur today is when I walked out of the field without having learned anything."

"A lot of the knights bet against you… older squires, too," Graeme said as they walked into the practice grounds.

"Have you?" Swordheart said, sounding amused.

"I… I didn't bet, Lord Tyrion forbade pages and younger squires from betting," the youngster said, his tone slightly embarrassed. "But Lady Hamakaze bet a lot!"

"Haha! Then I must valiantly prevent her from losing our savings of pooled stipends!" The female warrior chuckled as they approached a mass of people towards the middle of the field.

"Make way! Make way for the challenger!" Graeme exclaimed as they approached. The crowd dutifully parted, revealing a small circle in the middle and Jaime Lannister there, clad in full armor with his visor up.

"Thus came our challenger!" Jaime shouted. The low murmurs of the crowd then quieted. "Mighty fiersce she is, growing bushy mustache by a morning!"

"To be challenged by a Kingsguard is a great honor," Swordheart replied. "Long may he reign, and ever gallant may his guards be!"

"Well met," Broom said as the two combatants squared off. "Now I want a clean fight, you two. Do not knowingly endanger your adversary, as this is not a duel to the death. First one on the ground loses. Understand?"

"I shall endeavor to give my all," Swordheart said simply.

"And I will win this," Jaime said, sliding the visor of his helm down.

"Very well," the master-at-arms shouted. "Back off you lot! We need space twenty paces wide!"

There were some commotion before the required space clears out. All the while, the combatants had their swords out.

"Salute!" Broom barked, and the two duelers saluted. Swordheart then re-sheathed her sword, and Jaime fell into a defensive stance with his shield.

"Draw your sword, Ser Swordheart," Broom said, eyeing the warrior woman's stance. "Unless…"

"Yes Ser Broom, this is the blow that sundered The Hound's sword," Swordheart calmly said. "I intend for Ser Jaime to behold for himself."

"Very well then. Begin!" the master-at-arms exclaimed, and thus the fight was on.

At the very moment the sign was given, Swordheart bolted towards Jaime. Jaime was startled by the sheer speed Swordheart was using against him and could barely anticipate the sword-draw blow against his lefthand side, but managed to deploy his shield to block it. A split-second later however, Jaime then cried in dismay as another blow struck him on his left side. Swordheart completed the rotation as she bolted past, revealing that her second blow had been struck with her scabbard.

"Quite a fast opening, Ser ," Jaime said, re-setting his stance.

"Oh, we'll be faster alright," Swordheart replied, smiling while she lapsed into a peculiar stance, her scabbard held with a reverse-hand grip alongside her sword.

The dance of blades has started.

* * *

…

* * *

"That… is unlike anything I've ever seen. Bold, really bold," Tyrion marveled as Jaime took the offensive with a series of jabs. "What is that scabbard made of? Surely it's not leather, to be able to faze my brother's armored arm with its blow!"

"A boldness necessitated by the nature of the fight," Hamakaze replied as Swordheart faced the advancing Jaime at a distance, parrying the thrusts that came close to breaking her defense. "And Swordheart evidently is using her _tessaya_ … her iron sheath. Painstakingly fitted to a sword and welded together, its inside is lined with softer metals as not to abrade the blade it is housing."

"Is that so, Lady Kirino… fascinating," Tyrion said, Jaime finally able to land a square blow to Swordheart's protected waist. "Certainly a novel fighting technique. Such a privilege to witness it wielded with such a skill by Ser Swordheart here."

"While it is not considered a primary weapon, her master impounded the importance of being versatile in battle," Hamakaze replied as the crowd cried, Jaime having landed a glancing blow on the side of Swordheart's stomach.

"Her way of fighting is unpredictable, with the scabbard-blows and dodges she is making…" Tyrion mused as Swordheart took a chance and landed a downward strike with the scabbard right to Jaime's helm. "It's almost as if she's fighting with a mace in one hand and a sword in another. Yet, a mace doesn't quite have the same reach as her scabbard…"

"And would you have done any differently, fighting lightly-armored against a man taller, better armored, and stronger than you?" Hamakaze asked, Jaime unleashing a flurry of horizontal slashes and keeping Swordheart out of her reach. "Swordheart needs to be aggressive and fleeting against Ser Jaime, whose power and reach and superior to her. It is the… no, her melded way, strong and gentle at the same time."

"Gentle? I'm not sure I get that. Nothing in war is gentle, my lady," Tyrion said, Swordheart having parried Jaime's slash and let in a jab towards his chest.

"It is the philosophy of our martial arts, my lord," Hamakaze explained, the two having a few beat's pause to regain their breath. "Any art of the weapon is viewed as having two sides, The Strong Fist and The Gentle Palm. The strongest warrior is the one who attained balance between them."

"Enlighten me, Lady Kirino. It sounds interesting," Tyrion said, taking a swig from his wineskin as Jaime advanced again, this time using an overhead blow as an opener.

"The Strong Fist represents direct strength in practicing martial arts… punches, blocks, kicks, and such," Hamakaze said, Swordheart having spun out of Jaime's way to attempt a scabbard-blow to Jaime's unguarded right-hand side. "The Gentle Palm, on the other hand, represents finesse. Where blocks stop a sword from hurting oneself, a parry will redirect it to open the possibility of counter-attacking. Where a thrust might break the opponent's armor, a feint may disrupt his balance and open a gap in his defenses."

"I'm starting to understand… so this Gentle Palm has to do with the finer details…?" Tyrion said, the two combatants again squaring off after Jaime pushed Swordheart back with a shield bash.

"Yes. It governs more of forms and flexibility. Both has an application depending on the situation," Hamakaze replied as the two combatants again met in the middle, Swordheart trying to slip a thrust into Jaime's guarded center while using the scabbard to pick apart his offense. "Of course, one cannot exist without the other. A man of strength without finesse is careless, while a man of finesse without strength is feeble."

"The philosophy is quite simple… but I can see that the application is endless," Tyrion said, while Jaime dodged the thrust to his center while trying a thrust of his own.

"The Wind and The Cloud is another way to put it," Hamakaze replied as a parried blow opened a hole in Jaime's defense, causing the Kingsguard to get a glancing hit of the scabbard to his visor. "The wind alone or the cloud alone amounts to little, but together… the wind and cloud unites and becomes a storm."

* * *

…

* * *

"Rrraaaah!" Jaime shouted as he brought down a mighty overhead slash. Swordheart sidestepped from it, but suddenly stepped on the blade and pinning it to the ground. The momentarily stunned Jaime could only look in dumbstruck gaze as a pushing kick landed on his chest. It forced him to release his blade to lessen the kick's effect.

"Bitch!" Jaime snarled as Swordheart tossed the sword back to its previous holder.

"Are our bodies not a weapon, Ser Jaime?" Swordheart replied calmly as she re-set her stance.

Jaime snarled as he caught the thrown blade, but said nothing but a wordless battlecry as he charged in with a shield-first bullrush. Swordheart tried to move out of his way, but Jaime surprised her with a sudden lunge and landed a shield-bash on her left arm.

"Agh!" Swordheart cried out. Her iron scabbard landed a few paces from the combatants, jarred off her hand by the impact of the shield-bash.

"Not so tough are you now," Jaime snarled as Swordheart stepped away from the sheath on the ground.

"A warrior knows when to not pull on rope cut short," Swordheart said, her blade now held with both hands. Her stance then shifted into a more aggressive one, with the tip of her sword pointing to Jaime.

"At least now you would not be as tricky," Jaime exclaimed as he advanced again, a horizontal slash seeking for her now less-protected left side. Swordheart met the castle-forged sword and redirected it upwards, seeking to open Jaime's guard on the right side. The opening was unfortunately fleeting, too fast to be capitalized save for a kick to counter another shield-bash that clipped her faceplate. The crowd shouted in dismay as the blow connected, but again waited with bated breath as the combatants open up some space between them once more.

As if seeing a sign, Swordheart broke her silence and advanced. Jaime readied his shield, closing the avenue for a frontal attack from swordheart, who seemed to simply making a quick lunge. Indeed, a hasty thrust made by Swordheart glaced off to the right of the shield, opening her side to a slash that sent her into a safety roll.

"As I thought… a bit tougher without an off-hand…" Swordheart grunted as she got into a low stance, the hilt of her sword parallel to her cheek and the tip pointing to Jaime. Jaime, on the other hand, was already moving towards her, and she only managed to parry his blow as she raced to pass Jaime and open a gap between them.

"Get back here, you!" Jaime shouted, the precious few heartbeats spent turning around used by his opponent to open a gap seven paces wide. Swordheart barely in her stance at the other end of the gap, Jaime did what a warrior would do: charge at the unprepared enemy.

"Mumyou…" Swordheart shouted, stationary in the face of the ironclad mass that is Jaime Lannister charging at her. "Sandan-zuki!"

The effect was instantaneous. Jaime's charge stopped dead in front of the woman, as if running into an invisible wall. The man's body was jarred into stoppage before he fell on his back about half a pace from where he stopped, seemingly dead to the world.

"The winner of the duel," Benedict Broom exclaimed in the deafening silence. "Ser Swordheart!"

* * *

…

* * *

"By the gods…" Hamakaze mouthed as Swordheart shouted her words. "That move…"

"She… won?" Tyrion breathed, glancing between his brother's supine form and the kneeling Swordheart. Hamakaze, however, had already raced to Jaime's side.

"Ser Jaime? Ser Jaime! Stay with us!" Hamakaze said, as she tried to prop the man's head. Three large dents can be seen on the Golden Lion's armor.

"Ugh… hard to… breathe…" Jaime moaned out. "My arms… I can't move it…"

"The Maester! Get the maester here, quickly!" Hamakaze shouted. The arena finally stirred. Some cheered for their won bets, while some rued their lost money. A few heeded Hamakaze's shout and rushed to find the maester.

"Is he alive, Lady Hamakaze?" Tyrion urgently asked from her side.

"There seemed to be no puncture on his armor, but Ser Jaime seemed to have difficulties breathing…" Hamakaze said, trying to take off his helmet. "I hope there would be no broken ribs, but Swordheart used Mumyou Sandan-zuki and the damage from that attack could be…"

"Oh Seven… that felt like a… ram to my whole chest," Jaime moaned just after his helmet came off his head.

"Do you feel shortness of breath, Ser?" Hamakaze asked, cradling Jaime's head in her hands.

"Somewhat, but I don't… think it's a broken rib," Jaime replied. "I broke ribs before… it felt different than now. Lighter."

"The Maester is on his way, my brother. Let's not aggravate your wounds," Tyrion said.

"I'll live… by the Seven I'll live," Jaime said, chuckling despite his labored breath. "Her sword… it's beautiful, Tyrion, so beautiful… but I'll conquer that thrust, oh yes I will…"

"I'm sure the blows doesn't hit your head, Ser Jaime. Please keep your gaze on my finger," Hamakaze said, waving a finger in front of Jaime's eyes. "His eyes follow, Lord Tyrion."

"Mm, I suppose we can do no more, my lady…" Tyrion said, sighing.

"Step aside, step aside! Maester coming through!" Gerion Lannister's loud voice shouted after a few long moments. "By the gods, what happened here? It looks like half the castle is here! Out, you lot, back to your stations!"

"Ser Gerion, Maester Creylen," Hamakaze said, turning to the newcomers. "Ser Jaime seemed to have hurt his ribs and arms. No head or brain injuries, it seemed."

"You have done well, Lady Hamakaze, we shall take over from here…" Creylen said, kneeling beside the downed Jaime as Tyrion ushered Hamakaze away. "We'll need a stretcher and a few lads on hand in case he cannot move freely. Who attended to Ser Jaime's armor?"

"I did!" A horrified-looking squire said.

"Stay at hand to help us undo his armor. Ser Jaime, can you stand?" Creylen asked.

"Help me," Jaime replied. "I still can't feel my arms…"

"We're going to need that stretcher now!" The maester exclaimed as the world revolved, for a time, around Jaime Lannister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was very difficult to write, and during the course of making this chapter I was able to chart the rest of the story down to the sequel hooks. It also made me realize that I am utter grox dung in writing fight scenes. I ended up rewriting a couple times, and Jaime's fighting style... well, sorta came out like that. I only knew that he is mostly a dual wielder near the end of chapter completion (filthy secondary, I admit), and I'm not Tolkien who had the heart to scrap whole chapters due to some inaccuracy. It does paint a pretty contrasted view between Swordheart and Jaime, if anything else.


	18. Chapter 18

"So, debriefing," Hyuuga said, her hands steepled in front of her face. The white room has wreathes of white flowers on pillars, while a white crown of leaves adorn Yahagi's head.

"I defeated Jaime Lannister," the winner said, seemingly sheepish over the crown on her head. "It's a fairly close thing. I have to resort to teleporting three bolts of concussive force to neutralize him."

"Oh my, that's quite creative! Did you layer the illusion of you stabbing three times too?" Hyuuga said, rubbing her hands together. "Do you have the data chronicle? That can be very interesting indeed!"

"Hyuuga, you're overreacting," Yahagi whined, pushing a glowing transparent yellow dodecahedron towards Hyuuga. "What I did was nothing too special…"

"On the contrary, Yahagi! I can say that your experimentation with quantic forces is quite a boon for us!" Hyuuga said, taking the yellow construct and making it vanish on her hand. "I believe Owari is close to perfecting her own variant of your attack beside the Kuzuryusen you suggested."

"As expected of a flagship-grade core…" Yahagi said as she blushed, her tone halfway between embarrassed and reverent. "Any more news from home waters?"

"Makie's help on building the Stone Crabs is pushing the project faster. Field testing yields some very promising results, as with the designs for a tank-mounted particle cannon," Hyuuga said.

"Won't the cooling cause problems, though?" Yahagi said.

"That's why we're sticking to melee weapons for the moment. Drills and saws mostly, as well as some grapple device launchers," the engineer replied. "If testing completes without further complications, we should be starting production before the middle of next year."

"I see…" Yahagi said, nodding. "How about the… wetware CPU stuff you're trying to build, though?"

"We're shelving that for now… the embryos we developed turned to be riddled with physical defects, not only hindering our purposes but also making their life untenable. I consulted with Fleet Flagship and she consented to me putting them down," the battleship Mental model said, sighing. "Thanatonium radiation must have been enough to induce genetic anomalies from the sourced gametes before union, or at least that's what Makie and I concluded for now. The area was saturated with solid thanatonium particulates in the air until recently, after all."

"So are you going to try again?" Yahagi asked.

"Yep, but this time we'll try to get genetic materials from places unpolluted by thanatonium, as well as using better radiation shielding," Hyuuga answered. "A bit hard, but I might start from women who lived in mountains. The seawater here is relatively high in thanatonium content after all."

* * *

…

* * *

"How are you faring, brother?" Tyrion asked, taking a seat on a chair as a serving maid served Jaime. The day of the duel was three days past by now, and the buzz around the duel has became background noise.

"She seemed to have cracked something in my shoulders. Anything heavier than a goblet of wine causes my hands to shake," Jaime replied after thanking the serving girl.

"It's a risk of a duel, I guess," Tyrion said, leaning back as the maid went out with the chamber pot and laundry. "If Ser Swordheart's weapon that day is anything approaching the sharpness of Lionfang, Whitefang, or Blacktree… I fear our lord Father could have been very, very cross indeed."

"But… I'm glad nonetheless," Jaime said after eating two spoonfuls of porridge.

"Even though she defeated you four times of seven?" Tyrion said, his eyebrows perking. "Who are you and where have my proud brother went?"

"Oh, this much is nothing yet. I faced a lot more duels like this from other Kingsguards," Jaime replied, a little chuckle in his sentence. "Arthur Dayne, Gerold Hightower, Barristan Selmy, Mandon Moore… Even Blount have won a handful."

"That drunkard? Whoa," Tyrion said, a little mystified.

"Usually we're at about equal sobriety," Jaime said, chuckling.

"I figured," Tyrion huffed. "Sometimes even I think I can win a duel against him, If I catch him in the right conditions."

"With your training lately?" Jaime said. "I'd say two out of ten times."

"Better than the one in fifty odds in my head, at least," Tyrion grunted.

"Have you paid the dues, though?" Jaime asked.

"To the last penny, and I even bought a few kegs to soothe the losers. It was a slim profit," Tyrion said, releasing his held breath. "The lady did the same, out of her own winnings."

"Gracious of her," Jaime commented, having finished his porridge.

"And diplomatic," Tyrion replied. "A good trait to have as a lady of the house."

"House Lannister, I presume," Jaime teased, his eyebrows waggling. "I presume this is when I ask where have Tyrion Lannister vanished and who are you, besotted fool of a dwarf?"

"Do I look that besotted, brother?" Tyrion asked, his tone half complaining.

"I can't blame you for that… they present a compelling case," Jaime replied to the question, as a few knocks were sounded at the door. Tyrion hopped down his seat to open the door, revealing Maester Creylen and a maidservant.

"Ah, good morning Lord Tyrion," the maester greeted. "I trust Ser Jaime is in good spirits?"

"He is, Maester," Tyrion said, giving way to the maester. "Eating well, too."

"Good, good. A positive attitude and healthy appetite is easily half the recovery process," the maester commented. "Ser Jaime, I have come to check on your injuries. If you would sit straighter, please?"

A few long moments passed as the maester conducted his business of checking the health and injuries of the Kingsguard. Tyrion stood to the sides, noting the maester's procedures and conduct. Bandages were changed and salves were applied.

"I'm happy to see your condition, Ser Jaime. The swelling and muscle injuries you incurred to your shoulders seemed to be past its worst and well on the way to recovery. I predict about three to four weeks before you can do any meaningful knightly duties, however. Past that, I foresee up to two months of light duties," Creylen said, tapping Jaime's freshly re-bandaged shoulder. "I have taken the liberty to forward my diagnose of your condition to Grand Maester Pycelle in the capital, so that further treatments there can be done in accord with assessments made here."

"Ahh… well, if you must, I suppose," Jaime grumbled.

"I'm sure Grand Maester is bound under the Hipposic Oaths of Healing, is it not Maester Creylen?" Tyrion said.

"That he is, Lord Tyrion," Creylen answered Tyrion's question.

"Maester, milords, the Kirino ladies has come to visit…" the maid said, perhaps having been halfway out of the door with the cutlery of Jaime's meal.

"I apologize for the intrusion," Swordheart said, waiting outside the door.

"Ah, Ser Swordheart, a surprise," Creylen said. "Have you come to visit Ser Jaime?"

"Yes, maester!" Hamakaze chirped from behind Swordheart. "We even bring peace offerings!"

"A heap of pastries?" Tyrion eyed the small basket in Hamakaze's hand. "Well in any case, do come in, my ladies."

"Filled with Nihon-style bean paste!" Hamakaze said as the two of them stepped into the spacious room. "Here Maester, have one for you too!"

"Ah, I thank you my lady," Creylen replied, smiling as he received the warm baked treat. "Then, excuse me as I tend to other duties, my lords and ladies."

"Not my favorite, but I shall partake on the ladies' kindness," Tyrion said as he plucked two from the basket before offering one to Jaime. "Here, I think you haven't had one of these."

"I guess so," Jaime said. "Hmm… sweet, but there's a little… uneven texture. Almost like pear grit…"

"I guess it's the personality of the maker," Hamakaze said. "Mine has always been smoother, though never to the paste-like consistency of cousin Shiomaru's."

Jaime paused, before looking at the warrior woman. "You made this?"

"Better a warrior in the middle of a garden, than a gardener in the middle of a war," Swordheart replied, her tone solemn. "I apologize for your injury, Ser Jaime Lannister. My teacher always said that an ougi should only be used when the time is right against the opponent who calls for it, but I seem to have been… overcame with spirit in our duel."

"I… accept your apology, for what's it worth," Jaime said, his gaze a mix of curiosity and confusion. "But… what is an ougi?"

"I'm not sure of the connotations, but… it roughly translates to ultimate attack?" Hamakaze said, rubbing her chin.

"Something resembling a coup?" Tyrion ventured after washing down his pastry with a gulp of wine. "It's a general term for finishing blows, usually to a helpless opponent."

"Yes, as Tyrion said," Jaime said, drinking from his glass. "But I was hardly helpless back then. I think there is a difference here."

"An ougi takes many forms, and not even twins practicing the same martial art under the same teacher developed same ougi," Swordheart explained. "Mine was the Mumyou Sandan… The Three Vanishing Steps, and it comes with the slashing and thrusting variants… you were hit by the thrust yesterday. My eldest sister, whom studied with me under the same teacher, would develop her own Kuzuryu-sen, the Nine-headed Dragon."

"Nine simultaneous blows, like yours? By The Seven…" Jaime mumbled. "Your sister might be more fearsome than you do."

"But she… is glad at war. A wild horse chomping at the bit, a dog barely kept back by its leash. Such a belligerent guard is… troublesome, to say it kindly," Swordheart said, punctuated with a sigh. "She might be as woman as I, but sensible she is not."

Three heartbeats pass in silence while Swordheart took a bite from her pastry, chewed, and swallowed.

"Fortunately, she is occupied with being a teacher to my younger sisters. It had tempered her somewhat, and her unbridled fury is now reserved to those who crossed her lines," Swordheart said, a little smile after a sigh. "Though placing a title on her younger sister… the next after I, I mean… The Shadow in The Mist is maybe a bit too much."

"Surely an exaggeration, like Lord Oda's title in Lady Hamakaze's stories?" Tyrion ventured a guess.

"Mayhaps. My younger sister Kasumi was trained a little differently than I or my elder sister Owari," Swordheart said. "Where Owari and I was trained as warriors of honor and bravery, Kasumi was trained as a warrior of shadows and silence. Less upfront might, but more power where it hurts."

"As such, she should be quite at home with matters that require… discretion," Hamakaze said.

"Should be?" Tyrion asked.

"It's not like we had people to unleash her to," Hamakaze replied to the question. "Parts of the family who doesn't agree to our admiral's rule seceded far and away. The expenditure to hunt them is too great for its benefit."

"Enough ocean for them to play with, too…" Tyrion sighed. "Who knows, maybe they have their hands full reigning as kings beyond the Sunset Sea."

"Perhaps so… well anyhow, shall we get this good Ser to an airing?" Hamakaze said, chuckling. "I'm sure he will be able to appreciate walks instead of being kept in a room."

"Quite so," Jaime said, a smile blooming on his face. "Not two days inside and I'm starting to feel restless!"

The door then opened, revealing The Old Lion beyond the threshold. The air suddenly thickens.

"You are all here," Tywin said, his tone not betraying his inner emotion as he stepped into the room. "And I see the Kingsguard hale and hearty, for an aftermath that kept him bedridden for two days. I suppose this is a cause of celebration."

"Ah… well, my cousin and I figured that we should make amends for using excessive force during what amounted to be a friendly spar, my lord," Hamakaze said after her curtsey is done.

"Thus I suppose the Kingsguard was quick to forgive you, Ser Swordheart," Tywin replied as his piercing green eyes gazed into Swordheart's dark brown.

"He did, my lord," Swordheart said, holding to the Lord Paramount's gaze.

"I see. I came to see if he has recovered sufficiently, and it pleases me that I would not have a Kingsguard dying or getting maimed in Casterly Rock," Tywin stated as he brushed her gaze around the room. "Lady Kirino, Tyrion, I trust that you will not forget your duties in the afternoon."

"We remember and obey, Father," Tyrion said, his face schooled into calmness.

"Good. Ser Swordheart, to me. I would rather have my practice before today's heat becomes unbearable," Tywin said as he turned on his heel and made to exit the room.

"Of course, my lord," Swordheart said, following Tywin's wide strides as he exited the room. There were a few heartbeats of silence after the scene.

"Our father, my lady," Jaime sighed as he made to stand.

"Income reviews with him has its own flair to it," Hamakaze replied, grabbing the basket with pastries. "I suppose being short one warrior would not be detrimental to our walk?"

"Ah, I'm sure good lord Tyrion here would be able to provide ample company and protection for the two of us," Jaime answered as Tyrion sighed.

"Tyrion? Are you coming with us?" Jaime said, breaking Tyrion's silent musings of twenty heartbeats. Hamakaze and Jaime has exited the door, but Tyrion was still rooted in place.

"Ah, forgive me, my mind wandered," Tyrion replied, following the two's footsteps.

* * *

…

* * *

"Maester," Tywin Lannister entered the stately room bustling with activity. "My son. How is he?"

"Ah, I have finished most of the treatments ascribed for his injuries milord," Creylen replied, turning to see that the lord of Casterly Rock stood a few paces from him as he gave the gesture of dismissal to a few of his attendants. "His injuries are not life-threatening, however they will hinder his duties for some time."

"Is that so… how is your assessment so far?" Tywin further asked before walking to a nearby chair, beside the bed.

"Ser Jaime has incurred three major injuries, two to his shoulders and one glancing hit to the lower part of his right ribcage. While the shoulder injuries does not cause any fractures, the torso blow had caused a deep bruise and possibly cracking on the lower ribs. Instead of being stabbed, his injuries are more consistent to being clubbed," Creylen explained. "Of the years I have served you milord, I have not encountered such injuries."

"I see," Tywin said, sitting on the chair. "Clubbing would be appropriate, I suppose. Their weapons are blunted after all."

"Indeed, milord. I have administered a minute dose of milk of poppy to ease the pain he is likely experiencing tonight. I will see tomorrow if he would need a second dose or not," the maester said. "I am fairly certain that Ser Jaime would not fully regain consciousness until tomorrow."

"Fully?" Tywin questioned.

"He might still wake and move around, but he will be addled and without much conscious thought. Milk of poppy does not outright render people unconscious at this dose, milord, but it grants a deep and restful sleep at the cost of dimming the user's mental faculties," Creylen answered. "Ser Jaime's injuries are not so severe as to hinder his abilities in doing ablutions and relieving himself, thus this dose should be adequate to help him sleep without being disturbed by pain. At dawn tomorrow I will return to observe Ser Jaime's development, and will administer another similar dose to manage the pain should he need it."

"Ah, I see…" Tywin said. "Very well then, I shall stay for a little more. You may retire for today."

"As you wish, milord," Creylen replied before he bowed. "I shall notify the staff to assign a helper with the guards, just in case of difficulties."

"Good. I will retire after the carer comes. Have the guards outside notify me when they do," Tywin said.

"Absolutely, milord," Creylen said before exiting the room.

A few long moments pass, punctuated by Jaime's continious soft snores. Tywin let out a sigh, before sinking a little deeper into the seat.

"Fool of a Lannister…" Tywin grumbled as he massaged his eyelids. The promised helper would not arrive for some time, such is the size of Casterly Rock. "Hurting yourself on ruffled pride…"

"Mnnn…" Jaime moaned unintelligibly. Tywin drew a breath audibly.

"Son…?" Tywin managed to let out a part of his intended sentences.

"Mnn… Cersei…" Jaime moaned some more. "Please…"

Tywin sighed. Perhaps the bond between twins are strong indeed, to still exist even if the mind was addled by milk of poppy.

"Nnh… com… ming…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chronologically, the last part is the first one to happen.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a ship show up at The Rock's door.

"Mornin', Ser Swordheart," Sandor greeted Swordheart as she swung her overhead swings to the cool morning air. The training grounds were sparsely populated, the sun having only half out from the hills of the east horizon.

"Good morning to you too, Sandor Clegane," Swordheart returned his greetings as she swung her final swing of the particular repetition. "Starting early too?"

"Aye. Damned ale's killing my head, might as well swing something with it," the Lannister retainer said as he went through the motions. "Heard news yet? There gonna be a tourney at King's Landing in two moons."

"Is that so," the woman replied while starting another set of her stomach cut repetition. "What occasion?"

"Third nameday of Prince Tommen," the Hound said as he pulled out his practice blade. "Heard the prize for the joust champion is two thousand dragons, and a thousand five hundred each for champions of the melee and archery."

"A king's ransom in itself," Swordheart said as she continued her repetitions. "Many will be attracted to it."

"Sure does. Our King is a generous man," the Lannister swordsman said.

"Alas, I'm fairly sure I'd be an absolute buffoon on the joust," Swordheart said, a little laugh in her voice.

"Seen worse squires on the saddle, and your problem is your… spear style. It's not meant for lances," Sandor replied. "Could do well in the melee, I think."

"I don't think people will treat me kindly if they see me, a woman, handing them their asses on a plate," Swordheart said.

"Bugger that," Sandor grunted after a few heavy blows to a nearby training dummy. "You already beat Jaime Lannister's golden ass in a duel. Wear that fake mustache around or something, nobody'll ever know."

"That was a faceplate," Swordheart corrected, a note of laughter again in her voice.

"Hell if I know," Sandor grumbled.

"Well, a thousand and five hundred dragons is a great sum by all means," Swordheart said as her repetitions continue. "Will you go with the Lannister retinue, then?"

"Guess so. Lord Lannister wants me to be the sworn sword of Prince Joffrey," Sandor said. "Think we'll ride out in a fortnight or so."

"Is that so," Swordheart said. "I suppose I should wish you good tidings."

"The boat of your friend, that Lady Suzutsuki… wonder if she had managed to reach your castle ship in time," the Hound mused as he finished his motions with the sword. "It's been… what, eight months now innit?"

"Well, I guess we'll never know until she gets back here, whenever that is," Swordheart said as she too finished her thrusts. "They might have arrive here when you're in King's Landing. A spar perhaps, Ser Hound?"

"I'd try where a Kingsguard fail, ha," Sandor replied with a grin on his lips before someone called Swordheart's name from the sidelines.

"Ser Swordheart! A message for you," a young page called from the edge of the field near where the two stood.

"I'm listening, young page," Swordheart replied as she approached the page.

"A sailboat bearing the flags of Lannister and Kirino has been sighted anchored the bay early in the morning. The harbormaster sent for your presence at the quay," the page relayed the news. "They say it will be on the harbor soon."

"I see," Swordheart said before she looked up to the sky. The sun is halfway up. "I suppose now I owe you a spar, Ser Hound."

"Guess so," Sandor said, shrugging.

* * *

…

* * *

"Ah, Ser Swordheart, just on time," a portly man greeted as Swordheart made her way through a throng of interested onlookers crowd the quay area. The female warrior is still in her training clothes, having came essentially direct from the training field.

"Ser Kevan," Swordheart said, bowing slightly to the man. "Do excuse my slightly... disheveled attire. I was in practice and had no time but to freshen up a little."

"No matter," Kevan Lannister remarked as a catamaran made its way into the piers of Casterly Rock. "There they are entering the harbor now."

"Lady… Yamato? Owari-nee…?" Swordheart whispered as the people standing on the deck becomes more visible.

"Ser Swordheart…?" Kevan said unsurely.

"The Lady Admiral of House Kirino has arrived, Ser Kevan," Swordheart said in a reverent tone. "Lady Yamato Kirino, accompanied by my sisters Owari and Kasumi Kirino."

"I see… the resplendent lady in white and blue, I presume?" the household knight said in a low hush.

"Yes. There are two more ladies behind her, Shiomaru with the ashy long hair and Hyuuga Kirino with the wavy brown hair. Lady Suzutsuki you already knew," Swordheart replied as a plank was being brought to the vessel. "The shorter one in armor is my younger sister Kasumi."

"I see," Kevan concluded the brief exchange as he switched to greeting the newcomers. "Greetings, Great Ladies of House Kirino! House Lannister bids you the warmest welcome to our abode Casterly Rock."

"Well met, sir! I am Yamato Kirino, Ruling Admiral of House Kirino," the lady in white and blue said as she descended from the plank to the quay. "So great is my love to my sister Hamakaze, that I am compelled to visit her here!"

"Waga aruji yo," Swordheart sank into one knee as Yamato stepped in front of her.

"Rise, my sword. You have done well," Yamato said while putting a hand to Swordheart's shoulder. "Your sisters are evidently as impatient as I am. Oh, and where is Lord Gerion? We haven't spoke for quite a while."

"Gerion is… visiting his child, I would presume," Kevan said, while Swordheart gets glomped and patted in the background. "I'm sure he'd known of your arrival by now."

"Well then, shall we announce our arrival to the lord of the castle, then?" Yamato smiled as she spoke.

* * *

…

* * *

"Ser Kevan Lannister and the Ladies of House Kirino!"

Tywin Lannister was just finishing a sheaf of his paperwork in his solar when the guard posted in front of his door announced the name. _Odd..._ _lady Hamakaze is with the ladies today_ , the partriach thought before replying. "Enter!"

"Good afternoon, my lord," Kevan said as the announced party filed inside. Tywin's eyebrows rose half an inch. "I present you the Ruling Lady of House Kirino, Lady Yamato Kirino. She has just arrived, with lady Suzutsuki's boat."

"It's a great honor to have you, Lady Yamato," Tywin said from his seat. "I am Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Lord Paramount of The Westerlands and Warden of The West under the overlordship of King Robert Baratheon."

"Likewise, Lord Lannister. I am Yamato Kirino, Ruling Admiral of House Kirino of the Smoking Sea. My castle is… unfortunately, still on its way," the lady introduced herself, her bow deep. "Behind me are the retainers you have yet to meet. The tall brown-haired lady is Hyuuga Kirino, my wise-woman, while the taller black-haired lady is Swordheart's older sister and second-in-command, Owari Kirino."

"Well met... have a seat, Lady Yamato. I honestly did not expect your presence here so soon," Tywin replied. "I had thought it would take a year, maybe half that again. Certainly not eight months."

"We already made preparations to move closer towards Casterly Rock provided our castle-ship Yamato received enough repairs," the namesake lady said. "Suzutsuki caught up to us about two months ago bearing your dispatch and it left me… intrigued."

"Ah yes, the offer of betrothal to my son Tyrion," Tywin said as he sat down, having bid the ladies to sit down.

"You could say that I'm all for the idea," Yamato said, leaning forward. "But I am a just ruler of my house. I felt compelled to give matters to a vote amongst us, and in the end we elect five names to be offered to your side for consideration."

"Those names being…?" Tywin asked, his tone interested.

"The first is Hamakaze Kirino, my sister who I put on your council. She's quite the little ambassador and peacemaker among us," Yamato started on her explanation. "The second is my third cousin, Shiomaru Kirino. She is the one we all call 'general of the kitchens', a deft hand in matters of cooking. I figure their… smaller stature would make Tyrion less intimidated."

"I see," Tywin said. "And the other three?"

"The third is my second cousin from another branch of the overall family, Hyuuga Kirino. She's fairly tall and has curves in all the right places, also highly knowledgeable in engineering and sciences. A fair bit older than your son, though," Yamato went on with her explanation. "The fourth is Owari Kirino, my third cousin. She is a warrior second only to Swordheart, and skilled with the sword and spear."

"And the final name is…?" Tywin said curiously, guessing who the admiral would put forward.

A few beats of silence ensued.

"Why of course, Yamato Kirino," Yamato said with a big smirk.

There was another stunned silence following the declaration.

"Are… you sure of that, Lady Yamato?" Kevan broke the silence.

"Why not? I have heard Swordheart speaking highly of your nephew's remarkable intellect and wit, Ser Kevan," Yamato said. "A valuable resource for rulers and administrators."

"Yes, but he's…" Kevan made to object.

"Half a man? Midget?" Yamato cut in. "I consider it much better than being ret-… simple."

"I think Kevan was going to say 'insufferable, drunkard, and womanizer', but I concede that point," Tywin said, sighing.

"However, there is one stipulation we wish to put forward," Yamato said. "Our House presently has only female heirs. We wish for one or more of the younger sons from this union to bear our family name, so it might flourish again. We shall not begrudge your House for the first son, seeing that he will take place in the primary line of succession to Casterly Rock."

"And what if the first child does not survive into adulthood and marriage?" the Old Lion asked for the most obvious loophole.

"We have no objection for the second son to take the Lannister name, provided there are a third son to bear our name," Yamato easily parried. "And so on. Finer details could be addressed when… well, if we come to it."

"A reasonable point," Tywin said. "I agree."

"Now that we are all in agreement, let the would-be groom select his wanted bride," Yamato said with a smirk.

* * *

…

* * *

"...Thus, I present to you, the ladies of House Kirino," Tywin Lannister's voice boomed, ending the short speech before the feast. The assembled nobility of Casterly Rock clapped politely.

Tyrion sat on his seat, mere two spaces to the left of the head of house, just beside the seat of honor given to the other head of house. Yamato Kirino is her name, and she couldn't be a more stark contrast from her sister. She is tall, lean, with hair the color of deepest night, and armed with a smile that could be both mischievous or warm at the same time. He sighed and mentally compared the lady to her little sister, ashen-haired, shorter, but voluptuous and clever.

"Lord Tyrion," the great lady said in a quiet tone as the feast goes on around them.

"Lady… Kirino," Tyrion replied. "Is the feast to your liking?"

"It is a… refreshing change of pace," Yamato said. "Especially the wine roe. it is... highly nostalgic."

"We can thank Lady Suzutsuki for introducing it to our cooks," Tyrion said. "And Lady Hamakaze is equally busy in the kitchens, introducing and testing dried mein."

"Ah, my little sister… so studious and deft," Yamato said, her smile turning gentle. "She had summarized her times in your father's court, too. A most helpful comrade, you have been."

"It is a pleasure working with your sister, my lady. Even amongst the nobility here it is hard to find one so diligent and clever," Tyrion replied. "My lord father have nothing but praise for her, even if it's… not readily apparent."

"Will you help me all the same, my lord?" Yamato asked, a familiar twinkle in her eyes. "I would want to witness the proceedings of the court of Westerlands, if only for a few scant occasions. While I am certain I am as clever as my little sister, I know not if I can adapt quickly enough to keep up."

"Most certainly, my lady," Tyrion said after a sip of wine. "Though I fear I must show your cousins around for a few days first. I'm sure Casterly Rock would be able to mesmerize them just as it had mesmerized your sister."

"Oh, that is entirely acceptable, my lord," Yamato said before a giggle escaped her lips. "I imagine I will have my own hands busy recovering and attending school for a good few days."

"Will you not join us?" Tyrion asked, curious.

"The weariness of travel tend to affect me worse than my relatives," Yamato replied after a sip of wine. "Thus, I tend to anticipate the coming of such weariness by engaging in pursuits of the mind than the body for at least a day. I'm sure the splendor of Casterly Rock will not diminish just because I am a day late in gazing upon them."

"That it will," Tyrion said as Gerion lifted a toast.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which gliding is achieved.

"Lady Hyuuga, Lady Kasumi," Tyrion said. The midmorning air was cool and crisp, and the wind was calm. The gate to the Lion's Bridge stood to his left as two ladies approached him from the direction of the guest rooms. "I trust your night has been restful?"

"Yes, Lord Tyrion. The accomodations are quite stupendous," Hyuuga replied, smiling. Kasumi nodded her head. "Just me and Kasumi-chan with you today, it seemed. Lady Yamato is as asleep as a damp log."

"That is quite the metaphor," Tyrion said, chuckling. "Where are the other ladies, though?"

"Shiomaru wanted to see the kitchens first, she said, so Suzutsuki is showing her around there. Owari wants to… stretch her legs, so to speak, so Hamakaze and Swordheart are with her in the practice grounds. We'll probably link up at lunch… if Yamato-dono is well enough to wake. If not we'll probably have to rouse her," Hyuuga said. "Me, I want to see marvels and high places."

"How about you, Lady… er, Ser Kasumi?" Tyrion said, his eyes drifting to the shorter girl beside the woman.

"Ah, she hasn't had her _Genpuku_ ceremony yet, Lord Tyrion," Hyuuga said. "Sort of an… ordaining? Comissioning? Ceremony of the _samurai_ … well, our knightly tradition. Formally makes someone a... recognized knight, that."

"Ah… a lady then," Tyrion remarked. "I apologize for that, Lady Kasumi."

"I… forgive you," Kasumi said her words, sounding as if she has shaky grasp of the language.

"Well then, I suppose we better start with the high places, seeing that we are in the western part of the castle…" Tyrion said, beckoning the two to follow him. Two guards follow the short man. "We shall see the highest tower of Casterly Rock, The Roost, and the Stone Garden. They are the nearest to where we are now."

"Stone Garden… that sounds interesting, my lord," Hyuuga said, a step behind Tyrion. "A garden made of stones? A garden atop stones?"

"More a garden amongst stones, I reckon," Tyrion said. "One of the few remaining weirwood groves in the entire Westerlands, though I dare say the smallest, too. Do you know of weirwood trees, my lady?"

"I must say I don't, and that's fascinating," Hyuuga replied after a chuckle. "Though once I see it, take samples, and made sketches, I can try and find a relative of it in our archives."

"Interesting…" Tyrion mused, eyeing a book clutched in Hyuuga's left hand. "Well, a weirwood tree is a kind of tree quite unlike others. Its leaves are wholly red, and its wood is amongst the best wood for usage in tools and crafts. Quite solid and hard to work, but lasts forever and slow to catch fire."

"I see… it sounds like a highly valuable resource," Hyuuga noted. "A fleet of ships made of weirwood would be a force to be reckoned with."

"It would be, if not for its difficulty of propagation, very slow growth, rarity, and significance. The weirwood tree is all but extinct south of The Neck… thank the Andal migrants and their Faith of the Seven for that," Tyrion explained. "While north of The Neck, weirwoods are highly sacred for Northerners as they are believed to be… a sort of conduit between the realm of men and the realm of their Old Gods, I think. A Northern lord would sooner chop your head off before they let you chop their weirwood for any purpose."

"Interesting… a similar concept is known in our faith, too," Hyuuga said. "Great trees and sacred places are viewed to be able to attract _kami_ to inhibit it, and thus designated as a _yorishiro…_ a pure place, and warded as to not let impure beings tread on it. A _jinja_ … shrine? Sept? Well, in any case, a building would then be erected nearby to facilitate worship and house the caretakers."

"That sounds intriguing. What manner of trees are designated as a… _yorishiro_?" Tyrion asked.

"Usually big old trees, sometimes trees with certain characteristics, but I don't think there were a consistent kind of tree like what you mentioned about weirwood and the Notherners," Hyuuga said while scratching her chin. "The only mention of a specific, sacred tree in the archives of Nihon is the Ranjatai, really."

"Tell me of this… Ranjatai, Lady Hyuuga," Tyrion said, a twinkle of curiosity in his eyes.

"The Ranjatai is a… sort of special tree that wood gives off a fragrant smell. It is a sacred tree that not even _Tenno Heika_ … well, king of us the _Nihon-jin_ can fell on a whim. In its long history, it is only felled twice," Hyuuga explained as they went up a flight of stairs. "Once by Yoshimasa Ashikaga, and the second time by Nobunaga Oda."

"How… can a tree be felled twice?" Tyrion asked as they rounded a bend.

"I think it might be a twinned trunk, a secondary growth from the same root, or a grown cutting of the original tree," Hyuuga answered. "The two events are almost seventy years apart, more than enough time for a tree to grow anew."

"Interesting…" Tyrion said, gesturing to one of the guards following them to open a steel gate towards an open-air room. "Well, here we are. The Stone Garden, my ladies."

"This is quite beautiful!" Hyuuga said, stepping towards the open area around the size of a private ballroom. The sides of the place are smooth, almost vertical dark grey rock serving as walls of a room. The soil felt damp but firm, with nothing taller than grass growing around the weirwood tree standing in the middle of the garden. The tree itself are gnarled and twisted, with sparse canopy covering less than three-fourths of the sky and a trunk less than half a grown man's hug.

"I suppose there is a certain beauty in a weirwood," Tyrion remarked, hopping up to sit on a stone bench. "There is also no face in this particular tree, since it is believed to grow in the days of either king Tommen the first or Gerold the third, well past the age of the Children of The Forest. Legend has it that there was once a grove of weirwood somewhere in the vicinity of the castle, but I guess the Andals had burnt them at some point."

"And how long ago was that?" Hyuuga asked as she looks at the branches some ways above her. "King Tommen the first's reign, I mean."

"Somewhere around a thousand and five or six hundred years ago," Tyrion said.

"What about the face? And … children? I'm sensing that's not what toddlers are used to do, carving faces on a sacred tree," Hyuuga remarked.

"Ah, that would be the Children of the Forest, a mythological group of people who predated the First Men. They are said to be adept in magic and carved faces to weirwood trees," Tyrion answered the question.

"And when did these… Children's age stopped?" Hyuuga said, kneeling near the base of the weirwood tree as she rifled through the sparse leaf litter.

"That's a little hard to pin down, as maesters generally do not agree of the boundaries of the ages. The Dawn Age is generally thought to end twelve thousand years ago," Tyrion explained. "The Heroic age ended eight thousand years ago, and The Andal Invasion is somewhere around four thousand years ago… the Children of The Forest are believed to be already in decline since the end of the Dawn Age, and all but relegated into fairytales by the time the Andals invaded."

"Interesting…" Hyuuga remarked. "Ah, there's no intact leaves here… Lord Tyrion, is there a taboo against climbing weirwood trees?"

"I think there is, in the North," Tyrion said. "We southerners do not observe the same customs, however, so feel free. I think Jaime must have climbed it once and received revelations about swordplay amongst its branches."

"Well then, Kasumi-chan," Hyuuga said. "Can you get me a couple of good leaves? Maybe fruits or acorns too, if any."

"Hai," Kasumi said, pulling two pieces of gear from her belt pouch and putting them on.

"That's an interesting piece of gear," Tyrion commented as the small Kirino girl made her way up the slim tree like a cat.

"It is called the _neko-te_ … translates into 'cat's paws' in Westerosi I think?" Hyuuga explained. "Gives more traction to one's palms, a very handy gadget for climbing. I believe warriors of stealth from our old chronicles uses them to climb castle walls."

"A handy tool indeed… Seeing that Westeros has no shortage of castles, this invention could be highly profitable-…" Tyrion replied as Kasumi leaped down from about thrice Hyuuga's height and got into a safety roll in front of the two. "By The Seven!"

"Here is your leaves. I don't see any fruits or acorns," Kasumi said, unruffled by her stunt.

"Thank you," Hyuuga said, patting Kasumi's head.

"I… apologize Lord Tyrion," Kasumi said, almost as an afterthought as Hyuuga's hand left her head.

"Apology accepted," Tyrion replied, a glimmer of melancholy flashing in his expression. "Is it part of your warrior's training? Swordheart told me about your… different training."

"Yes… I am not as strong as Owari- _neesama_ , or as fast as Ya… Swordheart," Kasumi said as she stored her climbing gadget into the pouch. "Thus _shishou_ bid me… to learn the many _kakure-jutsu_."

"Is that… some sort of martial arts?" Tyrion asked.

"It's… more of a general division," Kasumi said. "As one might classify the arts as _ken-jutsu_ … sword arts, _tai-jutsu_ … fist arts, and so on. _Kakure-jutsu_ is… the subtle arts, the hidden arts. Ways of… taking care of people without much noise. Hidden weapons, trick arts, misdirections… poisons."

"I see…" Tyrion remarked, his eyes alight with curiosity. "Is it anything like Swordheart's fist arts?"

"A little of… everything, I think," Kasumi said, pulling something from her boot. "This is one of my weapons."

"A… dagger?" Tyrion said curiously. The so-called dagger has a blade about a third of a foot long, with a curious hilt that ends on a ring. "Doesn't seem very threatening, alright…"

"I have many more," Kasumi replied, brandishing another one from her sleeve with a flick of her other hand, and throwing it to the weirwood tree within one smooth motion. It sank almost to the halfway point of the blade into the hard wood. "And it can be thrown."

"I… see! I would love to see you in a demonstration spar sometimes… providing this does not kill people," Tyrion said, smiling with a shaky smile after the display. He then turns to Hyuuga, who had busied herself with sketching in her wide book. "Sketching the tree, Lady Hyuuga?"

"Just a little bit more, then we can move on with the tour…" Hyuuga said, her fingers making the charcoal stick she held dance.

"That is quite a luxurious book, by the by," Tyrion noted the woman's drawing book. "Must have cost a little fortune."

"Well, bleaching the paper correctly is a bit of a challenge I admit," Hyuuga said, smiling a toothy smile. "And I gander we will waste a little bit of this fortune when we get to the top of the tower."

"People will say that it's a very Lannister thing to do," Tyrion quipped, waiting for the older woman to finish as Kasumi wrenched the dagger she just threw out from the weirwood trunk.

"Oh, the sap is red," Kasumi said after a few seconds of observing her dagger.

"Is it? Let me see!" Hyuuga said, beckoning for Kasumi to come closer. "Oh, it is… so I guess it's not only the leaves, huh…"

"Ah, yes, it is said in the books that their sap is red… almost like blood, now that I see it for myself," Tyrion said.

"Hmm… well, I guess we should save the _kunai_ for later analysis," Hyuuga said, wrapping the dagger's stained blade with a handkerchief. "Hold that for a while Kasumi."

"Hai," Kasumi replied, tucking the wrapped weapon into her pouch.

"Well, we're done here, I guess," Hyuuga said, closing her book with a thump. "On to the next destination, my lord?"

"To the high place, as requested," Tyrion replied, hopping down from his seat. So they went, through the halls of Casterly Rock, climbing one staircase at a time towards its very top.

"Here we are! The Roost, the highest tower of Casterly Rock!" Tyrion said as they finally came out to the top of said tower. "About seven hundred feet from the water's line, this is the highest point of a man-made structure outside of The Vale."

"Whoa… this is quite a view…" Hyuuga said, her voice a mix of awe and elation. "Is this of the same age of the Stone Garden, Lord Tyrion?"

"The first structure built here was actually older than the Stone Garden, harkening all the way back from king Loreon the third about three millenia ago," Tyrion explained. "The value of vantage points has always been vital in engagements and sieges, so King Loreon built a small sentry post here in his reign. Mind you, in his days not even half of Casterly Rock has been mined and its residential area aren't even a third of that excavated area."

"I see," Hyuuga said as she scratched her chin.

"This particular tower was only built in the reign of king Gerold the second, however. Other rulers generally maintained the tower, though it does fall into ruin a handful of times," Tyrion went on with his recounting. "The last time it was restored was fairly recently, in my great-grandfather Lord Gerold's time."

"Very interesting… we can see quite a wide area from here," Hyuuga remarked.

"Indeed. To that direction, we can see Lannisport, just a half-day's ride from here…" Tyrion said, pointing to the nearest concentration of buildings. "Across the bay we can see Kayce there... and a bit of Feastfires' bay-facing docks a little further there."

"Impressive…" Hyuuga breathed. "Is this tower uninhabited, Lord Tyrion?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Lower sentry posts sufficed for day-to-day purposes, so this tower is mostly uninhabited save for wartime," Tyrion explained, pointing to a few hardpoints sitting on parts of the crenellations. "In such times, scorpions can be attached to these hardpoints. Caretakers and patrols still check this tower often, however."

"I see…" Hyuuga said, smiling widely as she patted her drawing book. "So, shall we proceed to waste a little fortune?"

"I'm afraid I don't follow, Lady Hyuuga," Tyrion said, curiousity in his eyes.

"Let me show you…" Hyuuga said, tearing a page from her book and folding it into a triangular shape.

"Ah, indeed a rather extravagant use of paper there…" Tyrion mused.

"Oh, but this is but half the fun," Hyuuga said, winking to the dwarf as she finished folding. "Kasumi-chan, would you like to do the honors?"

"Hai," Kasumi replied, accepting the small contraption from Hyuuga then threw it towards the sea. The small white form glided out, first rapidly gaining altitude for a while, before falling into a dive that levels after a few moments. The trajectory, clearly not a simple act of falling motion, captivated Tyrion's eyes.

"I… " Tyrion said, gaping as the white triangle recedes into the distance. "But… that… Lady Hyuuga, I… well, I don't know what to say."

"That is a dream, Lord Tyrion," Hyuuga said, her smile soft. "A dream where mankind will someday soar into the heavens beside birds."

"I… see…" Tyrion half-whispered, his brain only just caught up to Hyuuga's words.

"Well, do you want to fly one? I'll show you how to fold the basic shape," Hyuuga said, smiling.

* * *

…

* * *

"Tyrion?" Jaime asked as sat in the dining hall, nursing his wine. A white contraption sat on the table in front of his glass. "Are you… well?"

"Ah… Jaime, yes of course my brother. I… have a lot of thinking to do," Tyrion said, before again lapsing into silence.

"Ah… are you maybe attracted with the ones you guided today?" Jaime said, a sly twinkle in his eyes.

"Well… Lady Hyuuga has been very... compelling," Tyrion said after he drank a sip from his glass.

"Ah... grave matters for your heart, I suppose," Jaime said as he took the folded paper in front of his brother and examined it. "What's this, by the by?"

"Lady Hyuuga calls it _tobikami_ ," Tyrion answered the question. "It flies when thrown."

"It… flies?" Jaime said, mystified.

"Here, I'll show you how," Tyrion said, hopping down from his chair. "You hold it here with your thumbs and pointer, point the nose a little upwards, and… there!"

"Woooah," Jaime said after he threw the folded paper. It made a vertical loop and hit Daven Lannister on his temple after a short glide. "Sorry cuz! Can you bring that back here please?"

"Oy cousin, what the crap man!" Devan said, laughing. "Is it a new weapon? Pretty useless if you ask me!"

"Ah no, I think it's simply a novelty of a sort," Tyrion said. "Lady Hyuuga said it was made with a Nihon art of paper-folding. She showed me a few forms, but the only one that can do something other than looking pretty is this."

"Damn rich if they can waste exquisite paper for novelties like this," Daven commented. "Hey, show me how it was done!"

"Sure," Tyrion said, showing the form and the throw again, of which Daven repeated. Daven's throw made a higher vertical loop and flew further, finally hitting a window in the end of the hall.

"Woooh, that is so awesome!" Daven said. "I have to get one of those, for Cerenna and Myrielle at least."

"Let's see if we can get some paper from maester Creylen. I know how to fold one, Lady Hyuuga showed me how," Tyrion said, before a similar folded paper hit him square on the forehead. "Ow! Why you… Wait, this one's not mine."

Across the hall, Cerenna Lannister's face showed an expression between elated and dumb-founded, his right hand frozen in a throwing follow-through motion. Myrielle, her twin sister, had the beginnings of a smile on her lips. Hamakaze Kirino was beside the two, giggling girlishly with a basketful of similar folded paper on her hand.

"Are you an arms-dealer now, Lady Hamakaze?" Tyrion exclaimed, a broad smile on his features. "Selling arms to be used in an attack to the heir of House Lannister?"

"Why, it is such a preposterous notion, my lord!" Hamakaze exclaimed back in an equally amused tone. "I am perfectly willing to sell you wares of an equal quality-"

"CHILDREN!" the master of the house suddenly exclaimed in a thundering voice. Apparently Tywin Lannister can prowl more silently than a cat and had entered the hall unnoticed. "Take your games elsewhere!"

"Father, we are-" Jaime tried to interject.

"The main reception hall is more than vast enough for your silly games and novelties," Tywin said as he sat on his designated seat. "Go. There is plenty time yet before supper."

"Tywin, that's…" Kevan Lannister took the seat beside him as the youngsters filed out of the dining hall.

"I must have eaten too much sugar lately," Tywin grunted as a servant put a jug of wine in front of the two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Kasumi's mental model form is pretty much her namesake from _Kantai Collection_ , only her hair is in a single ponytail in the center (not a sidetail).


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a proper Martinian Feast were held. With much fewer dishes.

"A feast of dreams?" Hamakaze asked. The white room was a little less decorated today, but the white round table was inhabited by three.

"Yes. We will need it to make a splash," Shiomaru said, sitting across the grey-haired girl. "And show our soft power."

"Are you sure you're not exaggerating?" Hamakaze said, frowning. "While the desserts and noodles has been met with approval, I can't say that our world's foods would be a display of power."

"Ah, but it could be a statement of another kind," Yamato added her opinion. "We're showing them that we can help them to be something… greater."

"I'm not sure if we can use that angle…" Hamakaze replied, her eyes skeptical. "Tywin Lannister is perhaps the greatest man leading what is arguably the greatest noble house in Westeros, connected by blood to the next in line to the throne. That kind of angle might appeal to someone in a less secure position, Fleet Flagship, but I don't think Tywin Lannister is unstable enough to consider it."

"Oh, but he has his own worries," The Fleet Flagship said, bringing up a shimmering light panel with a clip playing in it. "Hyuuga and Haruna has analyzed the whole thing and this revelation might lead us to very… interesting outcomes."

"They think that this had something to do with the royal household," Shiomaru clarified Yamato's statement. "Mayhaps he has… something highly illicit behind locked doors, something with enough force to destabilize the realms. Lord Lannister would not have reacted so severely if it was not a matter of great importance."

"I see…" Hamakaze said as she rubbed her chin after the clip has finished playing. "This might be… game-changing, if we utilize this correctly. If we can secure Tywin Lannister's support…"

"We can leave Home Waters on autopilot and operate in legitimacy here," Yamato said as she smiled. "The strongest country in the Malacca Strait, accounting for area, was…"

"…Singapore," Hamakaze said. "Do you intend to… get a monopoly on trade?"

"Yes, but that's not all of it," Yamato said softly. "Hyuuga had 402 map the seafloor around the Chokepoint's seas. She then analyzed the results and found countless undersea vents spewing out valuable minerals. Much too deep for humans to mine, but we don't have that limitation."

"What materials are we talking about?" Hamakaze asked.

"Sulfuric compounds mainly," Shiomaru explained. "But from there we can refine many… iron, gold, silver, rare earths, thanatonium… preliminary results indicate multiple high value deposits. With our tech and some buildup time we can rival the Westerlands in monetary power if we want to, and that's before we factor in tariffs and taxes from our hypothetical subjects."

"I see…" Hamakaze said, leaning back and rubbing her chin. "Home Waters do produce all that, but the yield is heavily skewed towards thanatonium… And we haven't had much buildup time there, not when our priority was establishing the GPS network."

"Tyrion must be informed of this at some point," Yamato said as she turned to Hamakaze. "He will be in charge of either Home Waters or Chokepoint eventually..."

"Why, Fleet Flagship?" Hamakaze asked. "We don't strictly need this."

"We need an undoubtable truth about The Code," Yamato answered the question.

"So why not choose a town and drop a bomb there?" Hamakaze asked again. "Why go through all this?"

"The Chihaya Family," Yamato replied in a quiet voice.

"But… the circumstances are different. Compared to Westeros, they are specialists with special training…" Hamakaze said.

"Will I take another risk, knowing minds as bright as Tyrion Lannister exists? Shouzou Chihaya was one man on the head of a skeleton crew. Gunzou Chihaya was one man on the head of a party of five. They were up against the full might of The Fog," Yamato said, her tone wistful. "No. One blunder is enough for us. The loss of half of our fleet is not something I want a repeat of."

* * *

…

* * *

"A feast?" Tywin Lannister said, looking up from his daily work.

"Yes, my lord," Hamakaze replied. "Lady Yamato had agreed for Shiomaru to cook a feast for the esteemed members of House Lannister, as a showcase of our culture and an appreciative gesture."

"How many courses would you serve?" Tywin asked again.

"Five courses for up to a dozen people," Shiomaru answered. "Soup, fish, poultry, meat, and dessert."

"A very modest feast," Tywin said. "Peasants typically serve seven courses in their weddings. A noble's feast can go up to thirty-five, and royal feasts can go beyond seventy."

"I aim for quality, my lord," Shiomaru replied. "My efforts shall ensure that one of my course shall equal ten of others."

"Bold words, but out of experience to your family I cannot say outright that it is hollow," Tywin said, leaning back to his chair. "Very well, I shall allow you to serve your… modest feast."

"Thank you for your consideration, my lord. We request a week to prepare, and five helpers from the kitchen," Hamakaze said.

"Very well. One week from now, we shall see if your words carry weight," The Old Lion said. "Request your help from Master Orton in the kitchens."

* * *

…

* * *

"The view is indeed breathtaking," Yamato said as a few servants spread a tarp and then carpets on the floor of the tower. Pillows were strewn around, while Shiomaru Kirino prepares a drink by the parapets, on the other side of the area. "A perfect day for an outing, too. Truly a wonderful castle."

"Most ladies I know would have preferred the countryside or garden for an outing like this," Tyrion commented as a maid distributed pastries on a plate to the gathering of five. "From yours? Apparently dueling a Kingsguard is part of fun."

"The ladies of my house is not cut from the same cloth with most Westerosi ladies, evidently," Yamato said after a chuckle. "Lord Tyrion, I'm sure you know that my visit here is not… social, so to speak."

"Of course. Ever since the welcoming feast of my nuncle's return, my father has made his intent clear," Tyrion said after a sip of wine. "One of you would have me as husband… a demon monkey made of gold."

"True, true," Yamato replied amicably, smiling as she finished a piece of yokan. "Thus, I as the head of House Kirino would like to help you narrow your choices down by presenting five candidates. Lord Tywin has been notified, and expressed his support in this."

"I see… then who are chosen as the candidates?" Tyrion asked.

"Not asking for our dowry first? A bold step into the unknown, my lord," Yamato replied with a question of her own.

"Passions must have blurred my judgement, my lady," Tyrion said without any tone of remorse. "But by the tone of your voice, it will surely be something… of value."

"One steelship, to be used for you two's convenience," Yamato said, reclining into a pile of pillows. "That is our dower to you and House Lannister as a whole."

"Truly?" Tyrion asked, his tone somewhere between awed and curious.

"Yes. Each of us possesses a steelship of our own, of varying sizes," Yamato started her explanation. "Faster, more nimble, and capable of carrying more than any ship of comparable size. Comparing our steelships with current vessels in this kingdom's disposal… would be like comparing a valyrian steel blade to a wooden dagger that has been eaten by termites."

"Such a vessel would be a dower fit for a king…" Tyrion said, pensive.

"However, the vessel is soulbound to the bride you choose. Magical stuff, don't tell the septons," Yamato said, her tone conspiratory. "And it would be used as she see fit. She will not hesitate if pushed."

"Quite a short leash, considering," Tyrion commented.

"But, if you two are in agreement," Yamato went on. "Not a single naval force in this realm can challenge the two of you. As long as there is water under the keel, you two will be invincible."

"Well, knowing what I am expected to do is great and all," Tyrion sighed after a sip of wine. Shiomaru then served two bowls of green liquid between the two.

"Ah, the drink of my people, in the refined vessel of Hyuuga's make," Yamato commented.

"Two different drinks, it seemed," Tyrion commented before putting the edge of his bowl to his lips for a sip. If the Lannister heir had grimaced, he had hidden it well.

"Yours is a… innovation, my lord," Shiomaru replied, breaking her silence. "I'm afraid I have no way of knowing how you will agree with its… original taste."

"Ahh… the bitterness of life," Yamato commented after a sip from her bowl. " _Cha_ , made of select leaves of the plant, dried and powdered. Just about the only thing thriving in the fog."

"I cannot say that it's a delicious beverage," Tyrion commented. "It is… a new experience, as it is so often with your family."

"Well then, now that pleasantries have been exchanged and terms have been explained, let me enlighten you of the five daughters of Nihon who have stepped forth," Yamato said, smiling. "The first candidate is I, Yamato Kirino."

* * *

…

* * *

"My Lord Lannister, and esteemed members of House Lannister," Shiomaru adressed the small audience in one of the smaller dining halls of Casterly Rock. Tywin Lannister was there as well as all his siblings. Stafford Lannister sat on one of the seats, accompanied by his son Daven. Dorna Lannister accompanied her husband Kevan. Emmon Frey sat beside the hefty frame of Genna, his weaselly Frey features a stark contrast with the leonine Lannisters. Jaime sat on a seat between his father's and Tyrion's, the older brother grinning to the slightly apprehensive-looking younger. Yamato Kirino sat on the other end of the table, flanked by Hamakaze and Hyuuga. The atmosphere was formal, but relaxed. "I thank you all for attending this… modest feast of our making. Mayhaps this feast would be a window to what life would have been in the Nihon we remembered."

"Oh this is going to be so good!" Gerion exclaimed, interrupting Shiomaru's speech. "You are going to be swept away, brother!"

"We shall see," Tywin Lannister said stiffly. "Lady Shiomaru, you may start the service."

"Thank you, my lord. I shall walk you through the course of the feast, since some of you might not be familiar with the food," Shiomaru announced, giving a sign to a few serving girls to serve the first course. "The first course, a thick soup."

"Excuse me, Lady Shiomaru," Jaime interjected. "But this looks more toast than soup…?"

"The pastry conceals the soup underneath, keeping its aroma under," Shiomaru replied to the question. "Go on and partake, my lords and ladies."

Slightly confused, the Lannister diners pierced the layer of crusty toast with their spoons. The moment they did, several eyebrows shot up in surprise save for one Tywin Lannister.

"By The Seven above…" Tyrion said as he inhaled the vapors escaping from the pierced crust. "This aroma is… so rich. If someone told me this morning that an aroma like this existed, I would have branded him a liar."

"This taste… is this crabs?" Kevan added after swallowing a few mouthfuls of soup. "I think there's some taste of shellfish and shrimps, too."

"Yes, Lord Kevan," Shiomaru said. "A selection of the bounty of the sea, cooked in a stock of fish-bone and kelp, thickened with starch and cream."

"There is no mistake of the care and skill involved in making this," Genna said, in awe. "I see now that Lady Hamakaze was not being humble for the sake of it. You are a full arm compared to her single finger."

"Our King's best cooks cannot hope to match this, Tyrion," Jaime said to Tyrion beside him, his portion no more than scraps. "We are doomed, my brother. Doomed to never find this anywhere else, I say."

"And this is only just the first course," Tyrion replied. "By The Seven, Lady Hamakaze understated her comparisons grossly."

"The second course, fish," Shiomaru announced, the serving staff again serving a covered dish to the people in the small feast. "Cubes of boneless fresh snapper marinated in sauce, served with a salad with dressing of oil and herbs."

"Oh boy," Gerion said, terminating in a short laugh. "Sashimi, lady Shiomaru?"

"A variation thereof," Shiomaru replied as they started. "I opted to not use the thin slices of sashimi here, as it would take away the texture of the fish."

"This is so delectable," Tyrion said between bites. "The taste is a stark contrast to the full, mellow flavors of the soup. This is so sharp, but delicate and refined. I wonder how long it takes to prepare a dish like this, Lady Shiomaru."

"It depends on the deftness of one's knife, my lord," Shiomaru replied. "But no more than two hours, as this dish does not require use of fires. The wine vinegar and lemon juice mixture used to marinate the fish is strong enough to kill any harmful pests."

"Such a daring way of life," Jaime commented.

"Only enabled by the clean waters of Caster's Bay and the expertise of Lady Suzutsuki, good Ser," Shiomaru said as the servers roll up another cuisine. "The next, our poultry course, is perhaps the most… jarring one."

"Jarring?" Genna asked as waiters set a covered dish in front of the Lannisters.

"It is one of the ways of cooking that originates from the poorest walks of life, people so poor that they do not possess pots and pans," Shiomaru said as the dish is uncovered. The aroma of the dish again filled the air, making a few pair of eyes blink. "Whole chickens, rubbed in marinating sauce and herbs, encased in a mix of salt and moist clay, then buried under a few inches of dry loam before a bonfire was lit on it. The fires are kept alive for at least half a day, before the chicken were dug out and served. Do not let the Beggar's Chicken fool you with its name my lords and ladies, for it has been a favorite of many kings of Old Nihon."

"It is very tender," Genna commented as she picked apart her chicken. "Falls apart to the touch."

"Yet… this texture is far different," Gerion observed. "This is not like roasted chicken…"

"The flavor… By the Seven, the flavor," Jaime said in awe after swallowing a mouthful of chicken. "It's like… more chicken than chicken itself."

"The taste so favored by kings but discovered by the poor…" Tyrion marveled.

"The next is the meat course," Shiomaru said after the chicken dish is polished clean, another covered dish distributed by the servers then revealed. "Low-heat deep-fried pork cutlets in flour and breadcrumbs, with a side of gravy and sauteed vegetables."

"So tender…" Gerion said after he swallowed a helping. "And juicy, too! It's like the meat are stewed in its own juices."

"Crunchy, juicy, fresh… this is a riot of flavors and textures," Tyrion added. "How are these made, Lady Shiomaru?"

"Fairly simple, Lord Tyrion," Shiomaru said. "Thick cuts of marinated pork rolled in flour, beaten egg, and breadcrumbs, then fried in low-heat oil. Hotter oil can be used, but it makes thorough cooking of the thick cuts more difficult without turning the outside into charcoal. After that, it must be served with haste or else the juices would seep out of the coating."

"Simple, she said," Jaime joined the conversation. "Between you and a maester, I bet my white cloak you are more knowledgeable in matters of the kitchen."

"Thus we arrive in the final course, a sweet dessert called Amai Picha," Shiomaru announced as the serving girls brought in two large pans and distributing the cut portion of the pastry to the feasters. "Thin pastry sprinkled with various toasted grains and nuts, topped with a mix of cheese and maple sap before baked."

"By The Seven, this is heaven's fare," Gerion said, having finished his share and being served his second one.

"A perfect finish," Tyrion said, noticing Tywin's eyes gazing to his section of pastry in a flash of wistful remembrance. There was some more idle chat after the dessert, until the lord of the house called for attention. The table quieted as one.

"Lady Shiomaru Kirino," Tywin said in the conclusion of the small feast. "The feast was sumptuous. In just five courses you have brought this… novel experience to us and proven that your words carry much more than its weight. Just for this, Casterly Rock will always be open for you should you have a need of livelihood."

"I am honored by your praise, Lord Lannister," Shiomaru said, bowing to the Old Lion.

"The Red Keep's cooks are like candles against the shine of your moon, Lady Shiomaru," Jaime said. "The king would happily surrender your weight in gold for a feast of this caliber. Come with me, and I'm sure you will have the whole Red Keep begging for more."

"And apparently your dish had made a poet and negotiator out of my brother," Tyrion added. "A clumsy one, but that is a feat that maesters had failed most miserably before. Well done, Lady Shiomaru. If Lady Suzutsuki showed me heaven all those months ago, I know now that it is but a glimpse to yours."

"In a fortnight's time, I will be heading to King's Landing to visit my grandchildren," Tywin said. "You will be welcome to travel with us, Lady Shiomaru."

"About King's Landing, my lord, we have… drafted some plans," Shiomaru said as she eyed Yamato.

"About that, well," Yamato said, catching the glance and taking the reins of the conversation. "I have drawn up a plan of acquiring property then start selling food and clothes in King's Landing. Introducing our fashions and food while making money on the side seemed to be a solid plan to… put a foot down on Westeros, so to say."

"If the food will be even half as good as this feast, your coffers will be full of golden dragons within… a few months, I'd say. Surely less than a year," Kevan said.

"In that endeavor, we will need some endorsements to The Crown from House Lannister," Yamato went on. "I imagine it will greatly expedite the processes of land acquisition, guild registrations, and whatnots."

"I see. I can agree with some… backing to House Kirino's endeavor," Tywin said. "But as such favors go, I will require a payment on your part. Tyrion, name your chosen, for you are to be betrothed immediately."

"I… it's a difficult task to name one, even after knowing all of them. All beautiful, all skillful," Tyrion said. "Lady Yamato has revealed the candidates of her House's choosing to me recently, as she has done the same to you Father."

"You are correct," Tywin said, nodding.

"All women of the utmost capabilities, who would make a bride worthy of the greatest lords of the realm," Tyrion spoke. Tywin seemed to narrow his eyes for a heartbeat, but the moment is fleeting. "Lady Hyuuga with her knowledge and thirst of. Ser Owari and Lady Kasumi, both warriors no more than a few paces behind Ser Swordheart. Lady Shiomaru, whom on her hands holds the blessing of The Maiden to be dispensed freely. And finally… Lady Yamato, whom arguably the Valyrian steel link that holds the chain together."

The room held its collective breath as Tyrion paused in his speech.

"But choose I must, and my choice go to… none of them," Tyrion finally said. "I… my heart cannot choose of anyone other than Lady Hamakaze Kirino. Lady Yamato, please forgive me. Your offers are tantalizing, and you yourself would have been the greatest prize of them all, yet… I cannot."

A moment of murmurs filled the air as Tyrion made the solemn declaration, as tension mounted to an even higher height.

"What is there to forgive, Tyrion son of Tywin?" Yamato said, chuckling. "Who am I to stand between the two of you with a river of stars?"

" _Onee-sama_ , please don't make comparisons with a folktale they don't know yet…" Hamakaze said, her expression between exasperated and bashful.

"Oh, then is he to your liking, _imouto_?" Yamato asked in a teasing tone.

"Life will not be easy," Hamakaze said after a deep breath. "But there is none I'd rather be with, none other than one Tyrion Lannister."

"Marvelous. Thus I stand behind my precious little sister!" Yamato announced with flourish. The room released a figurative sigh. Genna Frey _nee_ Lannister nodded in particular.

"Then, is that your choice?" Tywin asked, his gaze against that of his dwarf son.

"Yes, Father," Tyrion replied, his tone solemn. "Lady Hamakaze is my choice, and nothing will sway me."

"So shall it be," The lord of the house said after an almost imperceptible nod. "My son has shown backbone. Your sister has shown acceptance. This is an… interesting match, but a welcome one Lady Kirino."

"Thus the lord spoke," Yamato said. "Hamakaze, we are happy for you."

"I… am honored, my lords," Hamakaze said, before bowing deeply. Jaime signaled for a seat swap so Hamakaze can sit beside Tyrion for the short remainder of the feast.

"Lady Hamakaze had discussed with me a possibility of acquiring a royal charter of nobility from the king, and with this accord House Lannister shall back it," Tywin said. "After that, we shall discuss the finer details of the betrothal and further economic ventures for King's Landing."

"House Kirino accepts this deal and shall accompany the Lannister retinue to the capital," Yamato replied.

"Anyways, a toast is in order lest we forgot!" Gerion Lannister exclaimed, raising his cup to the air. "For my nephew's betrothal, and the prosperity of the union!"

"Cheers!" The room said as one, some more enthusiastic than others.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a carnival comes to town.

"Hey Yamato, what can you say about this?" Hyuuga asked, tossing a transparent yellow panel towards Yamato. The white room looks bland as always, but there are two cups of steaming tea on the table.

"A continuous quantic anomaly?" Yamato mused. "Are we sure this isn't a volcanic thanatonium deposit or a similar occurrence of naturally-excited thanatonium?"

"I am. The wavelength is different from what natural excitation emits, and resembled an encrypted quantum transmission although it's… a little different. Differences should be small enough to correct after decryption so it's nothing serious," Hyuuga said. "However, I can't decrypt it with the keys I have. The only ship possessing comprehensive decryption keys is you, Fleet Flagship."

"That I am. Why aren't this brought to attention sooner, hmm?" Yamato asked.

"I only managed to refine the amplification enough that it won't decompress into mush, Fleet Flagship. Its signal strength is barely more significant against background radiation," Hyuuga replied.

"Let's see who our guest is now," Yamato said, putting a hand on the panel. The panel vibrated slightly after a few failed tries, before changing color to green.

"CARNIVAL DAYO! CARNIVAL DAYO! CARNIVAL DAYO! CARNIVAL DAYO! CARNIVAL…" A slightly garbled loud voice repeated from the newly-decrypted data before Yamato muted it.

"Ah, so there's the wayward daughter," Hyuuga mused. "Funny I hadn't recognized that earlier…"

"The interdimensional transfer could have messed with her quantic configurations," Yamato said. "Is this live?"

"Yeah. You can reply," Hyuuga said.

"Is that you Maya?" Yamato replied to the transmission.

"CARNIVAL DAYO! CARNIVA-… oh is that you Fleet Flagship?" the reply came from the connection.

"Yes Maya, and welcome to Planetos. I'm sending you a decryption package so you can tap into the Joint Tactical Network and the GPS system," Yamato answered the question.

"Okay!" Came the prompt reply. There were a few minutes of waiting, before a simulacrum of a young lady in a red-and-white dress materialized. She promptly saluted. "Takao-class Heavy Cruiser Maya, reporting for duty!"

"As you can see Maya, we are in another planet due to a space-time mishap," Hyuuga started to explain. "I don't know how you got pulled into this world, but it happened. We also have Haruna, Kirishima, and Makie. This ball of rock we're on is predominantly ruled by feudal lords, and overall technology level are low despite consistent accounts of factual events as far as eight thousand years ago."

"A tale as old as time?" Maya said, tilting her head a little.

"Quite," Yamato said after a chuckle. "We are operating under the pretenses of a fallen kingdom of a faraway land, Nihon. Hyuuga will prepare a dossier of our background and what we have divulged so far."

"I see, I see…" Maya said while she scratched her chin. "So, historical reenaction?"

"Mostly. We're keeping the launching point of the fleet vague," Yamato replied. Hyuuga tossed a golden apple to Maya and Maya caught it.

"I see… this is interesting!" Maya replied.

"The role I have to you would be the weird cousin… Think you're up for it?" Yamato asked.

"Absolutely, Fleet Flagship!" Maya said happily. "I have dozens of terabytes of songs and tutorials I saved from the tubes!"

"Excellent. Static data can be transferred to our server farms for the use of the fleet. Now you have the GPS map, I need you to enter the bay in the night from underwater, then anchor some ways out of the castle's dock," Yamato started to explain to the nodding Maya. "We'll sign you to emerge some hours before dawn."

"Well about that…" Maya said, looking sheepish as she scratched her cheek.

* * *

…

* * *

"Lord Tyrion, you sure are… fidgety today," Hamakaze sad as she followed Tyrion to an observation room some three hundred feet above the dock entrance. It has the full view of Caster's Bay for miles outward, an excellent vantage point to watch a gunmetal grey form slowly approaching from the sea.

The announcement of a foreign ship spotted in Caster's Bay waters near Lannisport caused a stir on the castle's denizens. When the confirmation were made that it is a Kirino-aligned vessel, the excitement rose to a fever pitch. Hence, why Tyrion had excitedly chosen to go to the observation post, almost as soon as the confirmation were made.

"Am I supposed to be not?" Tyrion shot back, his tone a little harsh. "I am witnessing magic! Living magic!"

"It is magic to you… and to be fair, our steelships _are_ lost magic," Hamakaze replied after a sigh, a touch of exasperation in her voice. "But to me it's… simply a cousin coming back after a long absence."

"By The Seven Above…" Tyrion mumbled, oblivious to Hamakaze's reply, as the steely form of Maya came to full view. Its movement was slow, as if to elicit awe of an onlooker with its sleek lines and foreign silhouette.

"Takao-class Heavy Cruiser vessel, the _Maya_ ," Hamakaze beside her recited. "One of the larger steelships of the fleet, missing when she tried to venture further west then anyone has ever before."

"Is the size of the ship the same with the one uncle Gerion lived in?" Tyrion said, his words filled with wonderment. "Steel from a ship that size can surely arm the entirety of the Westerland's knights thrice over!"

"The Yamato is our largest vessel, about a fifth again longer than the Maya," Hamakaze replied to the question. "Though… I see a wooden ship being towed behind her…"

"You're right… that looks like longship, a carrack of some kind…" Tyrion mused, before an alarmed tone took over his words. "Oh no. That's the ironborn flag! We must warn the docks!"

"Ironborn? Why would an Ironborn pirate ship be towed behind…" Hamakaze said unsurely.

"Whatever it is, it can't be good," Tyrion replied, having sent a guard down to the docks.

"Send for additional guards, but I'm sure Lady Yamato is down there with Lord Tywin," Hamakaze said in a calming tone. "Therefore, I'm sure at the very least Ser Kevan and Swordheart is also there. Not to mention Owari-san and additional armsmen."

* * *

…

* * *

The mysterious ship finally finished docking, to the wonderment of the assembled denizens of Casterly Rock. Tywin Lannister watched the ship proceeding with docking movements with impossible grace, at times outright moving sideways. His frowning face were more concerned with the Ironborn galley being pulled to dock on the dock closest to his entourage.

A plank then was lowered from the wooden ship, and a small procession of unarmed ironborns disembarked. The few men marched single-file from the wooden ship, looking dejected and sullen as they haul down a corpse on a stretcher.

"Brother, that dead ironborn…" Kevan said unsurely, taking a stance slightly in front of the older man.

"Euron Greyjoy…" Tywin grunted. "…dead."

"Good morning ladies and lords! I humbly present this gift to you!" a higher-pitched sound said as a girl dressed in dark red and white skipped down the plank behind the ironborn, carrying what looks like a giant fiddle marred by splotches of blood. "A dead pirate! Dead dread pirate! Killed in a single duel of fate!"

"My lord, might I introduce you to Maya Kirino," Yamato said from beside Tywin. "Pardon her lapse of decorum, she has always been… touched in the head."

"Welcome to Casterly Rock, Maya Kirino," Tywin said in low tones as the sullen crew set down the corpse. "Might I ask what of this… macabre gift?"

"Oh, he tried to pirate me in the high seas, so I pirate him right back!" Maya replied while taking off her three-tipped hat and bowing deeply. Kasumi dutifully held the bloody giant fiddle. "Then I lay salvage claim to his ship, but most of his crew mutinied, so I fought again and tossed the mutineers to the sea! But not the eyepatch man because he leads them and leaders got a nice bounty. Isn't he? Oh, he's also the only man who speaks more than meaningless gibber-jibber."

"In a matter of fact, yes he is. Euron Greyjoy, that one-eyed man, has a hefty bounty in at least three regions for his numerous crimes," Kevan said, stepping forward. "Two thousand golden dragons from the Westerlands alone, I believe."

"Oooh, neat! I get to keep his ship's coffers as salvage too, right? Man's loaded with booty, he has nice hats too," Maya said.

"A fair prize, although I must insist on an inventory in case there is important Westerlander heirlooms in there," Kevan replied. "Would it be agreeable, Lady Yamato?"

"Yes, that is acceptable terms for House Kirino my lord," Yamato answered the question.

"I get to keep the hats at least?" Maya half-pouted.

"I do not believe hats would be considered a prized heirloom, so yes," Kevan said, restraining his smile. "By your leave, my lord?"

"Conduct it swiftly, so we might make an example of that blighted pirate," Tywin groused. Kevan nodded, and boarded the longship with a retinue of redcloaks.

* * *

…

* * *

"The inventory of Euron Greyjoy's loot has finished, my lord," Kevan announced. In the spacious solar, notable members of House Lannister and Kirino is assembled around the work desk. "As agreed with Lady Maya, we have taken custody of heirlooms of known Riverlander, Reacher, and Westerlander houses, mainly signet rings and jewelry with specific house sigils and maker's markings. Maester Creylen has started to send ravens to the respective houses… well, the extant ones at least, and bade them to travel to The Rock and recover said heirlooms. The rest, commodities and valuables estimated to be a thousand dragons in value, are recognized as salvage rightly belonging to House Kirino."

"Very well. Gerion, the lady's rightly earned bounty," Tywin said, gesturing to Gerion beside him.

"There you are, my lady," Gerion deposited a hefty purse of coins to a table before Maya's smiling form.

"I thank you, my lords," Maya said, rising from her seat and bowing. "This shall go a long way indeed~"

"With this, I would leave Kevan at Casterly Rock to oversee the returning of the heirlooms to their rightful owners. The entourage will travel to King's Landing three days from now," Tywin said. "Should any member of House Kirino wish to travel with the entourage, horses and carriages would be provided."

"I can take you there if given good charts!" Maya said with a smile. "The good ol' girl should be able to take some more beating before drydock at Hyuuga's workshop!"

"It is a kind offer, Lady Maya," Tywin said evenly. "But I intend to conduct inspections to the lordly holdings along the way, as well as transporting this year's tithe. Ser Gerion will accompany me. You may request the relevant charts from maester Creylen, of course."

"Owari, would you accompany Lord Tywin in his travel?" Yamato asked, throwing a glance to her other chief warrior.

"As you command, my admiral," the tall lady said. "Although… there might be a problem. I have read of the horse arts before, but I cannot say that I can ride properly. The Smoking Sea is not a good place to keep horses."

"I will teach you," Gerion said, smiling. "It would be easy enough to learn riding in the few days leading to the departure. We won't expect to encounter robbers on the road either, so of course we will not expect to ride to battle."

"I see. Then I would be in your care, Ser Gerion," Owari said, bowing a little.

"Would you be amicable on parting with the pirate's ship, Lady Maya?" Tywin asked as Gerion and Owari excused themselves. "Seeing that it is part of your salvage and all."

"No no, I'm not sentimental about it or anything," Maya replied. "I'll leave it on the dock when I leave!"

"I see. Kevan, see that the lady's riches and whatever else she deems desirable is transferred promptly to her own ship," Tywin said. "Then take a good and recognizable chunk of that one-eyed scoundrel's ship prow and mount it on the entrance of the Lion's Gate beside his head on a pike. I want every passing court-goer to know that the bastard is dead and his ship sunk."

"What about the rest of the ship?" Kevan asked.

"Break it apart and burn it, I care little," Tywin said, a thin smile on his lips. "If there would be nothing else, ladies and sers?"

"Nothing from us," Yamato said. "We shall prepate for our departure with the ship at the same time with yours."

"I request permission to accompany my betrothed and the Kirino entourage to King's Landing, Father," Tyrion said.

"Granted. Take a strong guard, in case of unforeseen attacks by pirates on the Stepstones," Tywin replied. "Though in light of Lady Maya's successful defense of her own ship… against Euron Greyjoy's ship no less, I would not be surprised if she has her own ways of defending her ship."

"I shall take a Kingsguard, if it is amenable to him," Tyrion replied. "As well as… perhaps fifty armsmen?"

"You might as well, since the maester still forbade him of exertion," Tywin said. "This meeting is adjourned, then."

* * *

…

* * *

"We'll meet at King's Landing," Gerion said as he gave Tyrion a brief hug. "I daresay that you will take a bit longer than us, but we have all been surprised by them before!"

"See you there, uncle, and have a safe trip," Tyrion replied as they part.

"I trust that you will keep your brother safe, Jaime?" Gerion said as they hug.

"As safe as you would keep yours, nuncle," Jaime said, smiling. "Have a safe trip, all of you."

"With this much escort, we'll be fine!" Gerion replied as he mounted his horse. "We're even swinging by the Clegane's keep to enlist The Mountain's help."

"Aye, safest caravan entourage indeed," Jaime commented. Gerion chuckled, then spurred his horse to join the head of the group with Tywin.

"Well brother, our ride awaits," Tyrion said, turning from the departing tail of the procession.

"Enthusiastic, aren't you?" Jaime replied after a short snort.

"It's a magical ship, brother," Tyrion replied with a matter-of-fact tone. "Not even Corlys Velaryon… no, any of the original Valyrians even, were ever recorded to be in possession of a magical ship. We are likely the first Westerosi people aboard such a vessel."

"You and I both, brother," Jaime said, hand seemingly moving to ruffle Tyrion's hair before he settled on patting his shoulder instead. "Bit of a pity Lyle can't make it, though we'll probably see him in King's Landing. He is almost certainly going to be with Father's entourage."

"Indeed. I haven't met him much in the past year," Tyrion replied. "Though I heard Lord Crakehall is considering of renovating Borflet…"

The rest of the walk to the docks was peppered with small talk, and before long they stood by the docks. The tall tower-mast of the _Maya_ looms before them, easily able to squeeze through the cavernous pier of Casterly Rock. Even after that, parts of the the aft half of the ship stuck out of the enclosed part of the docking area, testament of the sheer size of the steelship.

"There's a certain beauty in this steelship, isn't it?" Tyrion remarked, watching the last of the baggage being loaded and armsmen marching up the plank to the ship proper. Kevan Lannister stood nearby, seemingly to enjoy the sight of the exotic ship.

"I suppose…" Jaime replied. "It really evokes a sense of awe."

"There you are, you two," the homely man said as the two heirs approached.

"Uncle Kevan," Jaime said, dipping his head for courtesy. "Stuck to holding the fort this time, huh?"

"Not the most glorious job in the world, I admit," Kevan answered the question. "But these bones are starting to feel the ages. This time I'd let Gerion take the… lion's share of the glory."

"That's a good one nuncle," Tyrion said after a short laugh. "We'll… well, I'll return with souvenirs."

"Oh, I wouldn't keep myself awake for it," Kevan replied, a good-natured smile on his face. "I wager I've seen much of King's Landing wares… though Dorna has been wanting to get some Myrish laces. So little of them had made it through to Lannisport lately."

"Then we shall endeavor to deliver the lady's request," Jaime said as he gave Kevan a hug.

"And you, young man," Kevan said in a mock-stern tone, after their hug. "Would have to restrain your passions. You are betrothed now, almost married."

"I shall keep it in mind, uncle," Tyrion replied. "I will run it by her first, at least."

"Oh Tyrion, how you will learn of a woman's wrath," Kevan replied, chuckling. "Speaking of your past-times, I'm expecting the guildmistress' representative to appear at court begging for tax leniency any day now."

"Oh, the tragedy," Jaime added as Hamakaze made her way down from the ship.

"Ser Kevan, Ser Jaime," Hamakaze said as she approached the three Lannister men. "And my betrothed, too."

"Ah, Lady Hamakaze," Kevan replied. "I trust there's no difficulties with loading?"

"No. The ones left to board is only these two," Hamakaze said, smiling. "A few non-departing helpers got lost for a bit but the armsmen mostly stick to the assigned spaces."

"I've sent word ahead to some trusted dockmen in King's Landing," Kevan said. "On the off-chance that the word doesn't come in time, Jaime surely knows how to get The Chump and Sons for trusty help."

"Thank you for your consideration, Ser Kevan," Hamakaze said, bowing deeply to the man. "Shall we board, then?"

"So we shall," Tyrion agreed, offering a hand to Hamakaze. Hamakaze took the proffered hand, and then walked beside Tyrion up the planks and onto the ship. Jaime followed behind them, and dockworkers started pulling the loading planks and detaching the docking ropes after the two last passengers boarded. Kevan lingered for a few moments, but finally turned and left.

"Youkoso, washi no fune ni!" Maya greeted the entourage of three with flourish as she leapt down the second turret of the ship, a small fiddle in her hand. "Kono subarashii no Maya e!"

"She meant to say, 'welcome to my glorious vessel, the Maya'," Suzutsuki said helpfully, emerging from behind a corner of the same turret.

"I see! Then we are honored to be on the ship, Lady Maya," Tyrion said, bowing. Jaime followed suit.

"Shall I take you to where the soldiers are being housed, Ser Jaime?" Suzutsuki asked.

"Certainly my lady, show the way," Jaime replied with an easy smile as he threw a last wink to Tyrion.

"Well then, let's get this baby out of the harbor, then!" Maya then said, before starting to play a tune on her fiddle.

A quiet rumble hummed throughout the ship, a hum that Tyrion never felt before. The ship then started to move sideways, clearing the docks quite unlike any sailship or galley Tyrion knew. Most of them would use a team of tugs and guides to align them properly while going into or out of docks.

"This is… quite magical," Tyrion said, his words thick in awe as the ship started to reverse out of the harbor area. "For a ship to move like this…"

"The lower hull is built partly in the principles of how a squid moves," Hamakaze said. "Under the waterline, there are adjustable openings that can emit streams of water, helping to direct and move the ship in ways only our ship can."

"And here I thought that the hard part would be to make steel float," Tyrion said.

"Displace enough water against the vessel's weight and you will get anything to float!" Maya chirped on as the ship cleared the mouth of the harbor, into the more open waters of the bay. "I'm sure you're familiar with _karu-ishi_?"

"It's a kind of stone that is very light, floats in water, and flakes easily," Hamakaze added. "It could be found easily around volcanoes."

"Ah, pumice is the Westerosi word then," Tyrion replied. "So you are saying that this ship is… hollow and flaky?"

"Well it is, if you compare it to a block of solid steel of the same size," Maya said, shaking her fiddle-bow to illustrate her point. "Imagine you have a block of steel one inch in size, how much would that weigh?"

"Four ounces, give or take," Tyrion recited.

"If you can somehow pound it into a shape that can displace more water than that, then the resultant shape can float in water," Maya replied, smiling as the ship starts to turn on itself, spinning in a giant circle as it aligned its keel towards the bay.

"I… see. So you are saying that if I can work out a shape made of steel that can displace more water than its weight, I can make steelships like yours?" Tyrion ventured a guess.

"Yes, though by the time you've figured out how to shape the hull you'll have a host of other problems," Maya answered the question while she grinned cheekily. "Propulsion, crew complement, navigation, damage mitigation…"

"Realistically speaking, making a functional steelship without magic will take probably two, three lifetimes of concerted effort," Hamakaze added, her tone placating. Maya had skipped her way to a large instrument nearby. "And an investment of gold to match."

"Indeed," Tyrion said as he followed the other girl. "Oh, is that the controls for a steelship?"

"Not… as such," Hamakaze said as Maya took her seat. "The magic does almost all of the small things and we simply command the ship to move, but… Cousin Maya has always had the flair for the dramatics and music."

"Ah," Tyrion replied simply.

"We might want to find something to hold on," Hamakaze said as Maya started to play and sing. "Maya's dramatics extend to how she controls her ship, so…"

 _Burning all the sky-yeah~  
_ _Two million degrees~  
_ _That's why they call me Missy Fahrenheit~  
_ _We're traveling in the speed of light~_

As if by a command hidden in Maya's singing, the ship groaned and started to accelerate. Jaime joined the two of them about the time of the final lurch, just in time for them to get a hold on a few handholds on the second turret.

"Whoa! This is intense!" Jaime uttered, leaning on a metal structure for support. The wind started to kick up as the vessel accelerated.

"Quite so! The jolt is unbelievable!" Tyrion shouted through the wind noise.

"She could have been more tactful, mou," Hamakaze groused. The wind somehow died down as the red-clad lady played the last of her notes. By now, the ship has reached its intended speed and stabilized.

"How was it? I'm good wasn't I? Wasn't I?" Maya said, her tone full of pride and whimsy.

"It's… a new experience," Tyrion said, in awe as they pass the busy docks of Lannisport in the distance. "How fast does she go, Lady Maya?"

"Mm… that's hard to tell," Maya replied, sitting on the tall stool by her key-board. "I think around a hundred and ten, a hundred twenty? I got grounded for a while after that, though. Hyuuga is mean like that when I break engines."

"Heavy cruisers like this vessel are usually rated at about sixty knots of cruise speed and eighty knots of flank speed," Hamakaze clarified. "Those kinds of speed Maya described is possible, but it will indeed break the ship's engine."

"That's… fast?" Jaime asked unsurely.

"That's beyond what any vessel can do…" Tyrion mumbled. "I had heard about Summer Isles' swan-ships topping fifteen knots on favorable tailwinds, but sixty in a routine? Without the need of winds? Unthinkable."

"Try to picture a wondrous horse that can canter as fast as your own horse can gallop, Ser Jaime," Hamakaze said. "And then it could gallop and canter with much less food and drink."

"That's… aye, that's a damn special horse," Jaime said.

"Well then, why don't we all have a seat~" Maya said as she waved a her bow a few times. A collection of benches sprung up the floor of the deck.

"Is that… Feastfires I can see there?" Tyrion said, pointing to a clutter of docks in the end of a peninsula as the ship moves swiftly out of the bay.

"Seems so!" Maya chirped, not looking up from the a chart that has somehow made its way to her hands.

"But… usually it would take us at least a day to get to Feastfires with a boat from Lannisport…" Tyrion mumbled. "Just… how fast does this ship even go? We are in The Rock's dock not an hour ago!"

"If Cousin Damion sees us aboard this ship, he could have the shock of his life," Jaime mused, chuckling.

"If these figures and scales in the charts are right, we will be at the vicinity of Arbor Island by… about midday the day after tomorrow…?" Maya mumbled, a chart on one hand and her chin in another.

"By The Seven," Tyrion said. "Now I know how Aegon The First feel… well, at least the speed of it. Actually, I don't think even he is quite that fast."

"And even if he is 'quite that fast', I'm sure you are still the fastest-moving dwarf ever my brother," Jaime quipped. "And if somehow some Targaryen court dwarf boarded a dragon at some unrecorded point, I'm sure we are the fastest Lannisters ever."

"Always the silver lining of a cloud, my good ser," Tyrion replied.

* * *

…

* * *

"Good evening, Lord Varys," An unexpected voice said from behind Varys.

"Ah, a good evening to you too, Ser Barristan. I must profess that this is a surprise," the spymaster replied amicably, knowing the old warrior who has that particular voice. "Are you seeking to escape the… fragrance of the city, too?"

"Quite so. The seaward towers has the freshest air of the castle," Barristan replied to the question. "And The King is unfortunately out again. Ser Oakheart, Ser Moore, and a dozen armsmen are escorting him."

"Ah… is that so," Varys said, a hand disappearing into his voluminous sleeves. "My deepest condolences for Ser Blount, by the by."

"He died while doing his duty, at least," Barristan said, sighing. "But to be laid low by his own liver…"

"Such is life, sometimes," Varys replied. "Have our king appointed a successor?"

"No, His Grace prefers to withhold that decision until after the tourney," Barristan remarked. "Sound reasoning, though I wish Ser Jaime could be recalled. Guarding the royal family with only five people is… doable, though tedious."

"Ah, but unfortunately, I have heard a birdsong that may dampen your spirits…" Varys said, his words punctuated by an exaggerated sigh. "Maester Pycelle has received a message from the Westerlands. Ser Jaime Lannister seemed to have incurred some injury and would not be able to perform his duties adequately for some time."

"Truly? The Grand Maester has not brought this up in small council meetings," Barristan said, before letting out a sigh. "Ah, that cocky lad… must have been some senseless duel and he got careless."

"Please do not fret my good Lord-Commander, as the injury did not incapacitate him severely," The spymaster remarked. "He seemed to be returning to King's Landing as scheduled, if my birds' song is to be believed."

"Do you have any Idea who injured him, Lord Varys?" Barristan asked, leaning on a bannister.

"In certainty? No, but I have a few good approximates," Varys answered. "One of the most probable would be Lord Tywin's new sword instructor… Ser Swordheart, they call her."

"Her? A Ser?" Barristan asked, puzzled.

"Yes, her. A foreign swordmaster without peer, supposedly sundered a sword in the scabbard in the first night she was there," Varys answered. "Unclear where she got the 'Ser' title, however. Maybe she had been knighted somehow, maybe simply an affectionate nickname."

"A swordsman of that caliber would be a great boon to the Kingsguard…" Barristan hummed.

"If you can overlook the lack of a certain organ, sure," Varys replied. "But then again, I am here. If she were to compete in the tourney and won, we will have confirmation to my little birds' song…"

"Indeed… wait a second, what is that?" Barristan said as he pointed to a queer-looking vessel moving into the bay from the direction of Dragonstone. "I don't think I've seen a vessel like that…"

"For once, I know not of the answer Ser Barristan," Varys said as he looked where the old warrior is pointing. "But I reckon we would hear of it fairly soon, especially if I indeed saw the red of Lannister mounted on its highest flagpole..."


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the king checked her out.

"Lord Tyrion Lannister, and his entourage!"

The hall of the king was grand and spacious, Hamakaze observed. Various attendants and courtiers who lingered after the court session were present, as well as some of the Small Council who presided over it. Banners and tapestries adorned with the stag-and-lion shield hung from the rafters and walls. In the middle, a rotund man black of hair and square of face sat on the throne made of swords, flanked by two remaining advisors.

"Hail King Robert Baratheon, First of His Name, King of The Andals, Rhoynar, and First Men," Tyrion said clearly as he knelt, his voice above the muted chatter of the hall. "I bring you news of my father Lord Tywin Lannister, who are on the way to visit you in a moonturn's time for the celebrations of Prince Tommen's nameday. He brings with him this year's taxes from the Westerlands."

"I welcome you, Tyrion Lannister, and acknowledge your news," the king bellowed, silencing the chatter. "Good to hear him on the way is to visit for the festivities. Though I'm curious, why did he sent you so far away ahead of his coming?"

"We have had… an alternative mode of travel, as you could see in the bay. My estimates were foiled," Tyrion answered the question. "I also wish to present my betrothed, the lady Hamakaze of the House Kirino. While the date has not been set, we will be wed soon."

"Now that's great news! To think that the infamous Little Fucking Lion has came to fasten the knot, after the adventures we had!" The king said, laughing as the tension of the formal report melted away. "Congratulations! When you get married, you must invite me!"

"We would certainly will, Your Grace," Tyrion said.

"I congratulate you as well, Tyrion," the old man sitting on a lower seat from the throne said. "Although permit this old lord a question. I have never heard of the House Kirino before, where do they hail from?"

"Our house hails from the Smoking Sea, my lord, where we live in great ships such as the one presently anchored within the bay," Hamakaze replied to the old lord. "Our house came to know of House Lannister after we rescued Ser Gerion Lannister and brought him back to Casterly Rock. I too, have resided in Casterly Rock for the good part of the past year."

"Ah… well, I hope that your marriage will be a happy and fruitful one, lord Tyrion and soon-to-be lady Lannister," The old lord said.

"The homecoming of Ser Gerion must be a riveting tale of adventure, no doubt," a young man on the other side of the king said.

"As you say, Lord Renly," Tyrion added. "Ser Gerion is accompanying my father in his journey here, so it would be his tale to tell when he arrives."

"I would be delighted to hear that over a few drinks!" Renly said, an easy smile on his lips.

"That'd be good. Have you said your greetings to your sister, nephews, and niece, though?" Robert asked.

"No doubt that my brother is briefing the queen as we speak," Tyrion said. "But nonetheless, I should be meeting the royal children too, especially the prince of the occasion. I beg you leave, my king."

"Granted," Robert said offhandedly. "Oh, and where would you and the lady stay? Surely not one of your… usual haunts."

"We are staying in Master Wilman's inn, Your Grace, waiting for my father's entourage," Tyrion supplied, before bowing one last time and leaving, Hamakaze a step behind.

"Well, that is unexpected," the old lord said, a fair bit of amusement on his face. "It is well-known that Lord Tywin has long been seeking a betrothal for Tyrion, but to allow an Essosi family to The Rock… highly interesting."

"Happy for the little man nonetheless, Jon," Robert said as the assorted courtiers disperse. "She has some damn nice hips, too. A bit taller and… unf! Tempted to snatch her myself, I say!"

"Brother, this is the betrothed of one of your friends," Renly said in a deadpan.

"Aye, happy for him, remember?" Robert replied, just as deadpan.

"Easy on the eyes, I admit," Renly said, showing his hands unthreateningly. "A little lacking on height, but generous hips and breasts indeed. A little darker than usual Old Valyrian hair color, but those vibrant blue eyes… made me think she has some stag blood in her."

"Ah, all this court business tire me. Time for a little nap, I say!" Robert said, standing from the Iron Throne.

* * *

…

* * *

… _Queen you shall be... until there comes another, younger and greater, to cast you down and take more than all that you hold dear..._

Cersei groaned softly, feeling the last ghost-whispers of the perennial nightmare in her dreams left her head. She pulled herself up and stretched, rays of midmorning sun hitting her bed.

"Wine," Cersei croaked, her vision still obstructed by the dregs of tears in her eyes. _No matter the hour, there will always a servant near the queen_ , she thought. "Wine, or The Seven help you I will…"

"At once, Your Grace," a manly voice replied as somebody pressed a goblet to her hand. Cersei rubbed her eyes groggily, vaguely realizing she knows that voice.

"Jaime! You arrived!" Cersei exclaimed, exploding from the sheets to glomp her beloved brother, lack of proper clothing be damned.

"Oof! Not so rowdy now, I'm still recovering," Jaime quipped while handing her a goblet of wine. "Here Your Grace, your goblet of wine."

"Where's the servants?" Cersei asked after a sip for her parched throat.

"I excused them for the moment. I imagine they're still around outside, out of sight as usual," Jaime replied.

"When did you arrive, then?" Cersei asked again, her thirst slaked for the moment.

"Late yesterday, by sea. We can't dock on the harbor since the ship would disrupt dock traffic too much," Jaime said. "We debated on how we would land our luggages, but that took too long and there's no practical solution so we only landed a small rowboat with a few people so we can contact Master Wilman. He arranged for a team of larger boats to ferry about men and luggage this morning."

"You could just dock the boat over, you know," "Say you're Jaime Lannister, as usual. How big was this mysterious boat, anyway?"

"About… two hundred yards or so? Made of solid steel!" Jaime replied to the question, excitement seeping into his words. "The docks at The Rock proper can barely accommodate her."

"Hold on. A ship made of steel wouldn't have floated at all…" Cersei said incredulously.

"Tyrion said the logic is sound," Jaime replied. "We couldn't stop at The Citadel to check since we're traveling in all haste here. He's with me by the way, probably introduced his betrothed to the king by now."

"Tyrion this, Tyrion that…" Cersei grumbled.

"Like it or not, Little Ty is the most learned one of us all," Jaime said in a placating tone. "But by the gods, outrunning Father by at least three weeks feels like a dream…"

"Maybe… that ship must be surrendered for the good of the kingdom…" Cersei mused after a beat of pause, watching rays of light play on her goblet as she held it against the light seeping out from the window.

"I… don't think that it's a good idea Cersei," Jaime interrupted the musings.

"Why not? I doubt the captain and crew could last long against you and a few hundred goldcloaks," Cersei said, smiling devilishly. "We can throw in a couple more Kingsguards if needed."

"Cersei, the Kirino clan counts warriors amongst them including Tyrion's betrothed Lady Hamakaze. The captain of the ship, Lady Maya, defeated and killed Euron Greyjoy in a single duel and threw most of his crew overboard after," Jaime explained. "If you enrage one of them, the others will not hesitate to jump in. And there's no telling how strong all of them really are, because I'm sure a few of them still has hidden aces in their disposal."

"They are just a few girls with swords!" Cersei protested.

"One of them won four duels from me, Cersei. Let that sink in for a bit," Jaime replied, an exasperated tone settling in his voice. "She achieved a feat very few swordsmen of this time have achieved. If she meant to kill me in the last duel, I suspect she would have."

"I didn't know you have became soft after a visit to The Rock, brother mine," Cersei taunted. "A tussle with a foreign girl and you're eating off their hand."

"It is called sound judgement, sister," Jaime said before letting out a small grunt.

"Really… let's see you 'sound judgement' your way out of this…" Cersei purred, making her way through Jaime's breeches.

* * *

…

* * *

"Nuncle, you 'r here!" Tommen and Myrcella exclaimed, bouncing happily as they made a run for their short uncle.

"That I am, Prince Tommen, Princess Myrcella," Tyrion said, smiling as the two toddlers glomped him. "Oof! Hefty as always, you two! Greetings to you too, Ser Barristan."

"Lord Tyrion," Barristan said, dipping his head a little. "And who might this lady be?"

"Ah, this is the lady Hamakaze of the house Kirino, Ser Selmy," Tyrion said as Hamakaze bowed. "She is my betrothed."

"Wah, what does that mean nuncle?" Tommen asked.

"That means, Prince Tommen," Hamakaze said, kneeling until she is eye-level with the little prince. "I will be your auntie soon."

"Wah! I always want 'n auntie," Tommen happily said. "M'friends all has auntie. An' now I'm gonna have one too!"

"A-ah, co-congratulations for you lady Ha- Hama… ka… Hakama…" Myrcella said.

"Well, Hama is fine, my princess," Hamakaze replied, smiling. "My name can be a mouthful to say for people not accustomed to it."

"I see!" Myrcella said, her smile bright. "Congratulations Lady Hama!"

"Well, a congratulations is in order I see," Barristan said to Tyrion as Tommen showed Hamakaze his toys. "Has a date been set, Lord Tyrion?"

"My lord father is still in talks with my betrothed's older sister, but I imagine it would be soon. Mayhaps even after the tourney, in Baelor's Sept," Tyrion replied to the old knight's question. "All is well in the Red Keep, Lord Commander?"

"Ah, the same old with your sister and goodbrother, Lord Tyrion," Barristan said. "Also, I have not met Ser Jaime yet, but is it true that he had been injured? Varys told me yesterday… it seemed that the Grand Maester elected to not raise the issue to me."

"He was, though the injury is getting better by the day," Tyrion said, sighing. "His hands might not be steady enough for a sword yet for the next fortnight or so, but other than that and a bruised rib he is of good health. Maester Creylen has indeed forwarded his assessment to the Grand Maester so that treatment may continue unimpeded."

"Ah… that would be a bit of a snag with the unfortunate departure of Ser Blount, but I'm sure he would be useful guarding prince Tommen and princess Myrcella at least," Barristan mused.

"Departure…? What happened to Ser Blount?" Tyrion asked, his curiosity perking.

"He collapsed while doing his duty on the bridge and got bedridden in agony… one day he simply never woke up. The Grand Maester said it was a severe liver bleeding," Barristan said in low tones. "His relatives would be arriving soon to carry his bones for burial."

"I see… and has our king appointed a successor?" Tyrion asked.

"He waits for the tourney's end. Sound judgement," Barristan answered. "To the displeasure of the queen, of course."

"No doubt. I have with me five dozen or so armsmen… I'm sure thirty could be spared to put the queen better at ease," Tyrion sighed. "Have you any names to put forward for the new Kingsguard, Lord Commander?"

"A few names comes to my mind," the Lord Commander mused. "If Lord Arryn would consent on poaching The Blackfish into the Kingsguard, that would be the best outcome possible."

"That one would be ideal indeed," Tyrion commented.

"That said," Barristan commented. "Strong indeed is the swordsman who injured Ser Jaime. How did that happen Lord Tyrion?"

"I was there when she dueled my brother," Tyrion said. "I'd say it's one to remember… my brother is strong, but she was blinding fast. No blows were pulled from the duel and… it simply happened. I daresay she earned her win."

"The world is wide indeed for a woman as capable as Ser Jaime to go unheard for all this time," Barristan commented.

"Think she could have a crack at joining the Kingsguard, Lord Commander?" Tyrion asked. "Hypothetically speaking, of course."

"Hypothetically, an equal to Jaime Lannister's prowess would be the next best thing after The Blackfish in my mind, Lord Tyrion," Barristan replied as the ends of his lips formed the beginnings of a smile. "Tell me of this… hypothetical swordsman, my lord."

"This hypothetical swordsman is my betrothed's armsmen… perhaps an equivalent of a Kingsguard even, celibate and sworn to their leader. She is… not unattractive, I suppose… fine black hair cut just below the neck and tied to a… sort of simple knot, slanted eyes, oval face with moderate cheekbones. Lean, wiry, swift but deceptively strong… armored to the neck she could certainly pass as a handsome man, save for an eventually glaring lack of facial hair," Tyrion explained to the rapt Barristan. "Skilled with swords, glaives, and bows. Definitely able to easily slay anyone but the best, with or without weapons. Sandor Clegane's sword? She sundered it in front of The Rock's great hall. No tricks whatsoever."

"Sounds like an excellent steel to have for a lord," Barristan said, sighing. "Bringing a warrior of that tier to His Grace's service will not be easy if her liege is worth anything."

"Indeed. House Lannister is fortunate to have obtained the opportunity to tap into her expertise," Tyrion said as Tommen entertained Hamakaze and Myrcella with a song. "My father has been able to replicate some of her feats, though with dead targets. If anything is her weakness, she is not a good leader of troops beyond direct command."

"I see… hardly a weakness in peacetime," Barristan commented. "Would still be an improvement over missing a member outright, really."

"Her Grace The Queen Cersei, and His Grace The Prince Joffrey!" the guard posted at the door announced. The inhabitants of the room seem to perk towards the door as one. The door opened, and the queen strode into the room with the aforementioned prince just behind. Jaime Lannister brought the rear and closed the door.

"Queen Cersei," Barristan and Tyrion said as one as they kneeled. Hamakaze fell into a _seiza_ and bowed deeply, her forehead almost on the ground.

"Ah, my other brother, the imp," Cersei said, a little huff in the end of her sentence. "Is this the bride our Lord Father has agreed for you?"

"Yes, sister," Tyrion replied as he and Barristan got up. "The lady Hamakaze of the House Kirino. A house of seafarers from the seas of Old Valyria who extended hospitality and aid for our dear uncle. Great was our debt, and such is our payment."

"My my… a pretty little thing, aren't you," Cersei said to Hamakaze, who is still in her _seiza_.

"I am honored by your praise, my queen," Hamakaze said, her eyes trained to Cersei's midsection as to not lock gaze directly with the royal.

"Much too pretty for the imp that is my brother," Cersei replied, looking to the sitting lady with a haughty gaze. "I doubt your puny house are able to raise a dowry worthy of a Lannister heir."

"The dowry is an item very dear to me, bound to my heart and soul, " Hamakaze said. "And agreed upon by all the involved parties including the Lord Lannister, my queen."

"Hmph," Cersei scoffed. "Where is the sword that injured my brother, by the by?"

"My cousin is traveling with Lord Lannister and Ser Gerion, Your Grace," Hamakaze answered the question. Tyrion seemed ready to interject, but ultimately said nothing. "At the behest of my lady admiral."

"Foolish," Cersei commented, circling the room like a lion would against a particularly defiant doe. "A lord parting with his sharpest sword would not last long."

"Perhaps, but it also shows her generosity and trust to her fellow lord," Hamakaze calmly replied. "After all, our house is not short of weapons."

"Much too pretty and twice too clever," Cersei said in a low drone, planting a heel on Hamakaze's thighs just above the right knee. "You are here on the forbearance of my own father. One word from me and you will be poorer than a pauper in the streets!"

"Do move away, my queen," Hamakaze replied in an even tone as she finally locked gazes with Cersei, indignant queen against defiant lady. "You are blocking my sunlight."

"That is quite enough, sister," Tyrion's interrupted with a firm rebuke as the staredown went on longer than a few heartbeats. "I'm sure you have plenty demonstrated the fearsomeness expected of a great lady of House Lannister."

"Quite right, quite right. Commendable bravery from you, little lady," Cersei said as she backed off, a condescending lilt in her voice. Jaime seemed to sigh in relief. "To me, Ser Barristan. Jaime can mind the little children for a while. You too, Joffrey dear."

"Yes my queen," Barristan said, bowing. "I leave this to you, Ser Jaime."

"Understood, Lord-Commander," Jaime replied. There were some more commotion as the queen and the Lord-Commander left the room, first prince in tow.

"Are you alright?" Tyrion said as the whole room seem to have relaxed. Hamakaze straightened her legs, massaging them a little.

"Nothing too bad," Hamakaze replied after a sigh. "Compared to all those times Swordheart had pushed me hard, this is nothing much really… nnh! Probably a bruise there. The seiza is hard on my calves."

"Then we must find a way to not use your… seiza so much," Tyrion said.

"But that is how one show proper respect to dignitaries, kareshi…" Hamakaze protested, curling her toes a few times.

"Why did you conceal the truth, though?" Jaime asked. "The one traveling with Father is Ser Owari."

"Sw-… _Ser Yabane_ wished to participate in the tourney's melee," Hamakaze answered the question. "We agreed on this… misdirection to muddle up the identity, at least to keep potential opponents off-guard. Lady Yamato knows and consents to this, and Owari-san has probably notified Lord Tywin and Ser Gerion by now."

"It will fall apart under scrutiny, but it will hold for now," Tyrion opined.

"Every small bit helps," Hamakaze replied.

"A-are you alright, Lady Hama?" Myrcella asked, concerned.

"I am, my princess," Hamakaze replied, smiling as she reached for Myrcella's head.

"Go on… Lady Hama," Jaime said with a smile, Tommen having commandeered his shoulder for a ride. "Cersei is a stickler for court etiquette, but she's not here now."

"I see…" Hamakaze replied, her hand finally landing on Myrcella's head in a gentle pat. The princess seemed to shrink from the gesture for a split-second, but relaxed afterwards. "I am happy to say that I am not injured, my princess. Just weariness and crimps from being in a formal posture a bit too long."

"Mother… stepped on you," Myrcella said unsurely, settling beside the foreign princess and pointing to the dirty spot Cersei just stepped on. "Tha's not nice. It hurts when someone steps on you…"

"It is indeed not nice," Tyrion pitched into the conversation. "Not only it causes pain, it is also quite rude."

"Then… is Mother at fault?" Myrcella said.

"Your mother has her reasons I'm sure," Tyrion replied after a sigh. "But yes, what your mother did was disrespectful and uncourteous. It is not a good example to follow."

"Then… I apologize for that, Lady Hama," Myrcella said.

"Oh, gods bless your heart, my princess," Hamakaze cooed as she hugged Myrcella. The little princess shied away from surprise, but got swept away by the taller girl after a moment of resistance. "Tyrion, can we ask to foster them after we're married? Please?"

"I'm sure something can be arranged," Tyrion said, a little laugh escaping his lips afterwards.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which curses are thrown.

"We confirmed it," Hyuuga said, grinning. The plain white room seats four of them by a round white table now. "Bugs planted in Jaime's clothing captured this recording and we analyzed it. They're a bit quiet about it, but it's definitely something about sex."

"Damning… oh so damning," Yamato replied, grinning. "We should probably go and thank the priest of the gods of tits and wine now."

"I get the feeling that Tyrion doesn't like his sister all that much after meeting her in the castle… dismissive attitude, rudeness, and all," Hamakaze opined. "But this… this is something else entirely. To think of trying to bite off more than she can chew this soon…"

"All we need now is how to… set them up for the fall, really," Haruna said, her all-encompassing coat masking half of her face.

"I think we need more before we can make our case," Hamakaze opined. "Our tech level is much too high that any but the most damning direct evidences could be dismissed as witchery."

"I agree. We will need primary witnesses, at least," Hyuuga added her thoughts. "And sufficient political backing. The way we stand now, Lord Tywin isn't even fully in our camp yet."

"Jaime did talk about servants…?" Haruna asked. "They could be potential witnesses."

"In an absolutist monarchy like this, lower-class people like them servants could either be shuffled out, bribed, or killed altogether with little fuss," Yamato replied to Haruna's question. "I'm not holding my breath for witnesses to come forward."

"We can try and tag people's clothing to keep track of them," Hyuuga threw in her suggestion. "But that will significantly slow the nanomaterial seeding of the Red Keep. I've conducted passive scans of the palace from Maya's hull and found definite evidences of spatial folding."

"Valyrian technology? Now that's interesting news…" Hamakaze said, rubbing her chin.

"Maybe we can slip an operative into the palace to help install bugs and map the castle…" Yamato suggested. "Haruna, will Kirishima be available to take this role? I'll need someone who can operate independently since I'd rather not expend more processing power to support a destroyer mental model doing this job."

"She is on Makie guard duty, but I'm sure she will be eager to do this," Haruna said.

"Good. I entrust the ground part of the operation to you two then," Yamato replied.

"Very well, I'll send a build order to Makie for a seaplane to take Kirishima partway," Hyuuga said, tapping her fingers on a few light-panels. "400 has her hull on standby isn't it?"

"Yep, and we can shuffle her out for a day to rendezvous with the plane," Yamato replied. "Somewhere off the southern edge of Blackwater Bay? Though we need to steer clear of the Pentos-Dragonstone-King's Landing sea lane…"

"Right. I'm going to run surveillance sats on that region to make sure no significant population centers or ship movements exist to disrupt the insertion," Hyuuga said.

"Well, we all have our duties now girls," Yamato concluded the meeting.

* * *

…

* * *

"Training facilities?" Tyrion said, his breakfast of bread and stew freshly delivered in front of him as he finished his words.

"Yes… Sw- Ser Yabane is competing in the upcoming tournament, and would like regular practices to keep herself in her best… well, as much as secrecy would permit that is," Hamakaze said, generously buttered bread in her hands. "I… also missed the feel of my bow and, now that it's here, would like to test it out."

"That's reasonable. Besides, many of you are warriors, of course you would want to practice. The only convenient place that comes to mind is within the Red Keep, however," Tyrion said as Hamakaze ate her bread. "But for you to practice archery and martial arts there would be… attracting attention, to say the least."

"It would, but I'm sure if we ask the king nicely…" Hamakaze argued.

"Oh I'm sure the king would allow it if it amuses him," Tyrion replied. "But this is no Casterly Rock, my lady. I cannot predict what would happen, and how the information will affect you and your house."

"I say we still notify the king, or a court official at least," Yahagi said, drinking from the cup of ale. "Practice could be postponed until the permission is given."

"Or… we can ask for permission for me to use the range, and then have you people practice beside me," Tyrion offered after a sip of wine. "I am, after all, being trained in archery by you two."

"I… think that is unnecessarily convoluted," Hamakaze said.

* * *

…

* * *

"Lord Baelish," Cersei greeted one of the Small Council member as he emerged from his apartments.

"Ah… my queen. I must say I am quite surprised. For you to ask my assistance this early… this must be an urgent matter," the small man replied in measured tones.

"Join me in my walk for a while, my Master of Coins," Cersei said. "I particularly desire to see the sunrise from the bay this morning, and Pycelle was of no use."

"Very well, my queen," Baelish replied. If there were puzzlement in him, it doesn't show up in his words.

Thus the two nobles and the small entourage of servants and guards embark on their journey, up winding stairs and through barely-lit hallways, towards the defense wall bordering the cliff facing the Blackwater Bay. When they arrived and stepped out, the sun had barely cleared the horizon. The golden rays glinted off the queer ship's reflective surfaces, creating a sight quite unlike anywhere else in Westeros.

"Now that I saw it for myself, it does take one's breath away… that steelship. Other ships in the harbor looks puny compared to it," Cersei said, leaning on the crenellated wall allowing the view towards the foreign ship. "How much would you value that particular one, Lord Baelish?"

"That is… hard to gauge, Your Grace," Baelish replied. "The sheer amount of steel probably exceeds what the Westerlands and Vale can produce for a year or more. If you would want to put a gold value based on that… it could be very well past what the kingdom coffers can muster."

"Is that so…" Cersei mused. "It has been rumored that it is magical. Traversed the seas between Lannisport and King's Landing in a mere week, if you care to believe my brothers."

"Though Tyrion has been known for fanciful thoughts, Ser Lannister has been fairly trustworthy as far as I know," Baelish said, rubbing his chin. "If that… insinuation is correct, then I fear the value exceeds what mortals as us may muster, my queen. It could perhaps only be affordable by honor… or blood."

"All the more reason to… take it into custody, no? For the good of the kingdom and all that," Cersei said airily. "A ship so powerful must be shared with the kingdom, not locked in the toybox of young, impressionable girls. They're, at heart, a mere bunch of girls armed with swords after all."

"Quite so, quite so," Baelish agreed after a chuckle. "If I may offer counsel, Your Grace?"

"Speak it, Master of Coins," Cersei answered his question.

"Perhaps play to the weakness of the pack, divide them so you may pick them up in smaller pieces," Baelish suggested with a thin smile. "Together they may be too great to handle, but alone… they might not amount to much."

"Such thoughts has occurred to me," Cersei replied, pulling her warm scarf a little closer together. "Mayhaps all I need to do is to… wait for an opening. Wise counsel, my Lord Baelish… my thanks."

"If there's anything else, my queen?" Baelish asked.

"You have rendered me enough assistance for now, Master of Coins," Cersei replied. "I shall remain here for a little more."

Baelish smiled and bowed, before he retreated into back into the keep. Cersei stayed there, smiling as a scheme formed in her head.

* * *

…

* * *

The Red Keep were lively that morning, with servants bustling to and fro doing their best to open their nobles' day. Tyrion, Yamato, Kasumi, Hamakaze, and Yahagi went straight to the audience hall, but were told that court would not start until after the midday meal. While exploring the keep, they ran into the old Hand of The King on his way to his morning meeting with a retinue of squires and scribes.

"Ah, Lord Tyrion and his entourage," Jon Arryn asked after greetings were exchanged. "How are you finding The Keep today?"

"The buzz is like a hornet's nest warming up," Tyrion replied. "We are actually seeking permission for something in the keep, my lord."

"Is that so?" Jon said. "Out with it, then."

"Me and the women of House Kirino here would want permission to use the keep's practice grounds and archery range," Tyrion explained.

"Permission to use the training yard and archery range?" The old lord said in puzzlement after Tyrion made his request.

"Yes my Lord Hand, some of my betrothed's entourage are warriors who wants to keep their martial skills honed," Tyrion answered the question. "I am also training with them, put a bit of a muscle in my arms so to speak."

"I see… this is quite a unique request, to tell you the truth… but understandable," Jon said before he spoke to his squire. "Hugh, accompany Lord Tyrion to see Ser Santagar for permission to use the ranges and training grounds. Tell him I approved of it."

"Aye my lord," the squire said, nodding. "This way my lord… and ladies."

Hugh then led the party of five out into the training fields, a sizable plot of land bordering the godswood of the keep. The training yard and range itself are sparsely populated, with only two Kingsguards having a mock battle and their squires practicing their drills separately. A tanned man keeps watch from the side, standing a notch taller than the average person.

"Ser Santagar!" Hugh hailed as they approached.

"Hugh," Santagar said, nodding to the Valeman. "How might I help you?"

"Lord Tyrion Lannister here wishes for allocations to be made for his party to use the range and grounds," Hugh said. "Lord Arryn approved of it."

"I see, I see," the armsmaster said. "I'll take it from here, then. Tell Lord Arryn I acknowledge his orders."

"Good. I shall return to him now," Hugh said before nodding and leaving.

"Thank you, Hugh," Tyrion said, of which Hugh acknowledged with a hasty nod.

"So! I am Ser Aron Santagar, master-of-arms of the Red Keep," the wavy-haired Dornish man said with a slight bow.

"I am Tyrion Lannister, that much is evident from my tallness," Tyrion replied.

"Quite a motley crew here, Lord Lannister! There's abundant time to use the range, since those fat cats of your house's guard are more interested on drinking ale, if you don't mind me saying," Santagar said, smiling. "So, how often would you like to use the facilities?"

"At least two times a week, both ranges and grounds for me and my entourage… probably no more than ten warriors at one time for half a day," Tyrion answered the question. "House Lannister would make sure that the time will be well compensated."

"Very well… you should be able to start tomorrow. Today is the Kingsguards' day, as you can see with the entourage of Sers Oakheart and Moore there," Santagar remarked, pointing to the two warriors squaring off in the distance. "The armory will be available if you need additional practice weapons and other supplies."

"That will hopefully be unnecessary," Yamato said, her words aimed to interrupt the Dornish man. "We bring our own equipment, though we do not bring all of them today."

"If that is what the lady says," Santagar replied as he turned to face Yamato. "Who are you ladies, by the by? Haven't seen many warrior women since I left Dorne… and it's quite rare nowadays, even there."

"These are the women of House Kirino, from the Smoking Sea," Tyrion answered the question. "A house of mariners and warriors who rescued my uncle Gerion Lannister. They owned the… ship anchored just offshore."

"Ah… the talk of the harbor," Santagar said before he stage-whispered in a conspiratorial tone. "I may have heard a few drunkards wanting to swarm the ship, so if you are in need of security…"

"I suppose the attempt would be a very interesting sight!" Yamato said as she giggled. "It is well-secured, and is guarded by the girl who fought and killed Euron Greyjoy and his band of reavers. We are not overly concerned, Ser Santagar."

"Quite a tall tale, my lady!" Santagar replied, a wide smile on his face, obvious disbelief in the tone of his voice.

"Except it's not," Tyrion joined the conversation again. "Lady Maya may not look like someone who would hurt a fly, but right now Euron's head is sitting prettily on a pike beside Casterly Rock's gate half-crushed nonetheless. I guarantee it with my word as a Lannister of The Rock."

"I'd say!" Santagar exclaimed after a few beats of dumbfounded silence. "Certainly puts matter into perspective, aren't you people?"

"Anyway, is there a chance to use at least the archery range today Ser Santagar?" Yamato asked. "You see, my little sister here has been quite… excited to be reunited with her bow after almost a year's separation. So much that her betrothed is starting to protest!"

"O-onee-sama!" Hamakaze said, bashful. "I still take care of Tyrion just fine!"

"That is so, I'm afraid," Tyrion decided to add. "My betrothed abandoned me for a taller bow. Oh, my agony."

"M-mou, anata mo!" Hamakaze all but shrieked.

"Ah, isn't it the story of all of us… left behind for a better one," Santagar said, the beginnings of a smile on his lips. "But to answer the question, Yes you may. The current Kingsguards does little to no archery. Raff, show this lord and ladies the ranges, will you?"

"Aye ser," the squire named Raff quickly obliged. "Right this way milord, miladies."

"A question, Ser," Kasumi, who remained behind, said while raising her hand.

"Ask away, little lady!" Santagar replied.

"Is there a taboo against climbing trees there?" Kasumi asked, pointing to the wooded area beside the practice grounds.

"The Godswood? I think there isn't," the master-of-arms answered.

"Ho, Ser Santagar!" one of the Kingsguard who were practicing on the field hailed as he approached Santagar.

"Ho, Ser Oakheart," the armsmaster replied.

"Redcloaks wanting to practice for the tourney?" Oakheart asked.

"Of a fashion," Santagar said. "This is… one Lady Kirino, she's with a Lannister entourage wanting to book the fields for their use."

"I am Kasumi Kirino," Kasumi said, bowing to the white-garbed knight. "My liege lady Yamato Kirino wishes to keep us, her guards, sharp."

"Ser Arys Oakheart at your service," Arys responded, a generous nod with it. "I profess that you do not look like a warrior, my lady… no offense intended, of course."

"I… am still growing, Lady Admiral always said," Kasumi said. "But I am trained as a close-range guard. My expertise is in stealth, hand-to-hand combat, and short-range weapons."

"Interesting, interesting! Moore, hey! Don't you want to introduce yourself to this young lady here?" Arys flagged his brother-at-arms, who is in the process of entering the keep. "Show her some of your fabled Vale swordcraft?"

The Valeman seemed to eye the two with mild interest, before he made a dismissive gesture and walked away.

"Ah… well, Ser Moore isn't the most sociable man in his best days…" Arys said as he scratched the back of his head. "Do excuse his conduct, he is a good man when you know him better."

"No offense were taken," Kasumi said as she fastened a pair of unusual mail gauntlets to her hands while conversing with Arys. "Then I must excuse myself to begin my own training."

"Would you mind If I stay around to see?" Arys asked. "I want to see you practice your arts."

"I do not mind, Ser," Kasumi replied.

* * *

…

* * *

Two Ironborn galleys sailed in the night, with dark-painted hulls and dark-dyed sails. One is smaller than the other, a small craft not particularly suited for reaving but an excellent vessel for running mail and smuggling small amounts of valuable cargo. The captains of the vessels stood on the decks, seemingly familiar with each other in spite of occasional but frequent infighting amongst Ironborn reavers.

"Ahoy there!" A girl shouted as the two ships come close.

"Ahoy!" an old man who looked like a captain of the larger boat replied. "Goin' to play crow somewhere, little lady?"

"Very funny, prick!" The girl replied hotly, although the beginnings of a smile bloomed on her lips. "Where you louts from?"

"Reavin' 'round the Reach, got some booty," the old captain said. "Pretty lean pickings though."

"Winds ain't quite right for trading this way yet, yea," the girl agreed. "Neething else for a mail runner to know?"

"Oh, we got chased out from waters near Feastfires," The old captain said after a few seconds of thought. "These Westerlanders been sayin' they've killed Euron Greyjoy."

"Nuncle Euron? You sure?" She asked, incredulous.

"Word's everywhere. Landed on some hamlet 'round there," The old captain said. "Beat the tar out of some greenlanders, same word."

"Damn… better see this myself," The girl said, signaling her men to row away. "Thanks Sharkey!"

"You be careful out there," The old captain said, chuckling in a fond tone. "Asha."

* * *

…

* * *

For a few days after the start of the ladies' practice, things were quiet. Kirishima arrived late the day after that start, and got to work immediately as up-close drone scans has located several person-sized hidden entrances on the seaward foot of hill where the Red Keep stood. After a few days, she has indeed found a few spatially-engineered rooms in the underbelly of the keep. Most are empty, a few harbored minor forgotten treasures of valyrian steel and silver.

"Ooh… and what do we have here…?" Kirishima said as she entered the last of today's share of spatially-folded room. Rows of earthenware jugs lined the room, floor to ceiling. "Haru-haru are you getting this image?"

"I am," Haruna replied from the other side of the communication line. "Some sort of winery, maybe?"

"I don't know… wine turns to vinegar eventually, so unless these people likes to drink centuries-old acid I can't say it's worth fermenting this much wine juice…" Kirishima said through the communication line. "Whoa, pretty big room too. At least ten by ten by four."

"Telemetry readout's just in… the energy pattern has significant differences compared to the ambient outside," Haruna said. "Be careful in handling the jars. I have a bad feeling about it."

"The logical and analytic Haruna, having a bad feeling?" Kirishima quipped as she reached to a jug, slowly lifting it from the rack then encompassing it with a cylindrical bubble of Klein field. "I guess I better go an extra mile with this."

"You'd better… Hold on, I detect thanatonium excitation pattern from that jug," Haruna said. "Energy state is low, but it's steadily rising. Kirishima, get out of there before it starts a chain explosion… I can't extrapolate when."

"Ahhh shit," Kirishima cursed, expending nanomaterial to enclose said jar.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which someone likes to watch.

"The analysis of the contents of Jug One has been completed," Hyuuga said. The atmosphere in the white room was tense. "I took a liberty to tentatively label the substance nitro-thanatonium, or NT for short."

"That… says a lot," Yamato said, her hands steepled on the table. "A derivative of nitrous oxide?"

"The chemical mixture is more akin to an unholy cocktail of flammable hydrocarbons and nitroglycerin, then enriched with thanatonium… somehow," Hyuuga replied. Hamakaze and Kirishima inhaled sharply. Yamato seemed to curse under her breath. "There's also azides of copper in it, that gives it a characteristic green flame when burned. I can't synthesize NT on the spot, not unless I have my labs back in Home Waters."

"That chemistry doesn't make a lot of sense…" Hamakaze exclaimed.

"Yeah… no less dangerous though," Kirishima grunted. "Damn jug near blew up on me a few times while I transport it out of the hidden cellar before Haruna has the genius idea to purge it of heat."

"As demonstrated by that action, NT stabilizes with the lowering temperature. However, it has a relatively high freezing point of approximately two hundred and eighty-three Kelvin, so thawing became an issue," Hyuuga added. "Also, NT has a nasty tendency to gel up if introduced to organic compounds, further complicating matters."

"If it has thanatonium, then the detonation and combustion could be… partially quantic in nature at least," Yamato said, leaning back into her chair.

"Due to that, NT has the ability to burn through a lot of things… and that includes nanomaterial and composite plating," Hyuuga said, her tone grim.

"…Goodness gracious," Hamakaze whispered. "They invented the perfect incendiary weapon, damn it."

"The good news is, since this thing is partially quantic in nature, our Klein Field repels it more readily," Hyuuga said. Yamato looked a bit more relieved. "As long as we deploy it before NT has the chance to splash our Mental Model body, we should be safe. The rate is also slow enough to make purging a layer one centimeter under it can be used to mitigate damage… handy if NT is ever used for naval warfare against us."

"We have another big problem, however," Kirishima reported. "The jars are stored in an area of space that is spatially-folded so it has more room than it actually is. Sounds good, until you consider that stabilization of a spatially-folded space requires a large investment of energy, something that can only be provided by thanatonium-powered tech. Or… spells, if these Valyrians considered it magic."

"Introduce enough excess quantic energy, and the structure unravels…" Hyuuga said, drawing a sharp breath. "… liberating the energy used in its creation explosively. Plus, the folded space will hold for some time…"

"And this would pretty much amplify the detonation itself… like shrapnel, but with energy," Yamato said, her tone grim. "I can't leave those under there on good faith. Hyuuga, work out a plan with Haruna to strip this room bare of NT. Kirishima, keep a well-monitored perimeter around this particular foldspace and reduce the speed of your manual mapping expansion. Try to redirect foot traffic out of there."

"Yes ma'am," Kirishima affirmed. "I'll set up shop in one of the rooms adjacent to the folded space and let autonomous bots map the adjacent parts of the castle."

"Should I brief Tyrion of this?" Hamakaze asked, having raised her hand.

"…Brief him on your discretion. I think the dissemination of the information must start towards Tywin first instead of Jaime and Cersei, so have him keep it under wraps until Tywin arrives," Yamato replied to the question. "If there's nothing else, girls?"

"Nothing more, Fleet Flagship," Hyuuga said.

"Alrighty then! Time for me to make friends and influence people," Yamato closed the meeting with a clap of her hand.

* * *

…

* * *

"Tyrion, are you going out?" Hamakaze asked. The short man is indeed donning a rather plain cloak, ready for a day out on the streets. A trusted redcloak guard in plainclothes waits for him nearby. "Let me go with you."

"My lady, this is a… delicate matter," Tyrion said, a little nervousness in his voice. "This has been arranged from quite a while ago and to miss it would mean… missing a lot of resources."

"We are not married yet, Tyrion," Hamakaze said as she approached, then lowering her face until it's eye level with Tyrion's. "You still have certain liberties… I can understand."

"All the more reason to not get you implicated, my Lady. This is the one final time, I promise you," Tyrion said, askance in his words.

"There have been a situation… Yamato-neesama has authorized me to share the news with you, and by extension House Lannister," Hamakaze said. "But I don't want to cause a panic. This is an upscale inn, but…"

"Would a brothel be any more secure?" Tyrion asked.

"Mayhaps, but certainly not a place to be expected by most people," Hamakaze answered the question.

"I… see," Tyrion relented. "Leo, you take the lady where we were going. I'll take the tunnel."

"Aye milord," Leo said, finally saying a word. "Gunna hafta find 'nother cloak for the lady, tho."

"Take Kasumi with you, at least?" Hamakaze said, motioning to Kasumi trailing her. "If anything, she needs the practice."

"If you insist," Tyrion relented. "Lady Kasumi, I presume you took your prior lesson in blending in seriously?"

"I had," Kasumi said.

"Then I trust you would not try shadowing me from the rooftops," Tyrion said, a hint of amusement in his words.

"I will not," Kasumi replied simply.

Contrary to the earlier suspense, their journeys to where Tyrion's sojourn were to be had ended quite uneventfully. Tyrion emerged from the second floor of the establishment, greeted by the dark-skinned mistress with a smile.

"My lord of lions," the mistress greeted. "You brought female company to Chataya's, a first occurrence."

"Mistress Chataya," Tyrion said, nodding as the mistress fell in step to him. "This one is my guard, and the one who came through the front door is my betrothed."

"How very… adventurous!" Chataya said, her tone amused. "So, the maidenly service of my daughter, as agreed in your last visit?"

"As if I'd miss it for the world," Tyrion said, sounding confident. "However, my betrothed is here on a different, more pressing matter. I trust the walls will not listen?"

"Oh how you wound me, my lord of Lannister," Chataya replied to the question. "My girls are secret-keepers for many a noble of the city. I will guarantee your secrets."

"Excellent," Tyrion said as Chataya directed him to a room.

"A free upgrade of room, my lord. You are entertaining guests after all," Chataya said as she opened the door. The room was more spacious than his usual room; Hamakaze is already inside.

"I thank you, mistress Chataya," Tyrion said as he nodded towards the proprietor. "Have lovely Yaya tarry for another half-hour, we should be done by then. Lady Kasumi, please help yourselves with refreshments they provide. Join Leo, he's well-behaved."

"Very well," Chataya said, "If you would follow me, my lady?"

Kasumi spared another glance into the room, locking eyes with Hamakaze for half a heartbeat before replying Chataya with an affirmative and leaving.

"Hold on, let me ward the room against listeners for a bit," Hamakaze said. Tyrion nodded, just a heartbeat before the walls shimmered. Bluish six-sided tiles coated every surface, even most of the floor.

"Magic…" Tyrion breathed.

"A damper that absorbs sound from the air and prevents them from leaking," Hamakaze said, her eyes a little sad. "Oneesama demands every precaution available."

"Now, what is this urgent matter from Lady Yamato?" Tyrion said.

"Tyrion, I need you to keep this a secret," Hamakaze said after the warding was done. "Please."

"I will," Trion replied.

"Do you swear it upon your honor and House Lannister's name?" Hamakaze pressed.

"… I do swear upon my honor and the Lannister name that I will not divulge this secret," Tyrion replied, his tone serious and slightly annoyed.

"Thank you. Well... how to put it, we of the Fleet of Fog has been infiltrating the Red Keep with an operative. It's done mainly to make a map out of the castle in cases of emergency," Hamakaze said after a relieved sigh, before she pulled out a small box lined with velvet and opened it. The box revealed a small clear vial the size of a pointer finger with a green oily liquid in it. Tyrion felt his heart clench. "While in the process of mapping, she found a room full of this. It is very flammable, explosive, and burned intensely, even capable of eating through iron when exposed for long enough."

"…Wildfire? You found wildfire under the Red Keep?" Tyrion said in an exasperated tone, before he half-mumbled the rest of his words. "Seven damn you Aerys…"

"A large storage cache has been found so far," Hamakaze went on with the explanation. "And it's hidden under a spell, so searches conducted by people not knowing might not find it easily."

"I can say with some certainty that this is the work of the Pyromancers, under the auspices of the last Targaryen king, Aerys second-of-his-name. He is notorious for his… abhorrent love of burning people with the substance," Tyrion replied, taking a seat on a chair.

"What sort of madman does that, by the gods…" Hamakaze said, face a little pale.

"The sort who has far too much power and far too little sanity," Tyrion replied before a sigh. "How much substance are there? And how could it be put under a spell?"

"A lot. Our operative risked her life to get a jar out, and it contained about a hundred of this vial's worth of liquid, give or take," Hamakaze answered the question. "She reported a room stacked floor-to-ceiling with it, although if it's any consolation the room aren't too wide and does not have a very tall ceiling. As for how it got into a bespelled space, Your guess is as good as mine."

"Seven give us strength…" Tyrion breathed his words. "Why don't we go to the king with this?"

"The substance contains an element we need to power our engines, so we want to extract it. Hyuuga is bringing her ship in secret," Hamakaze said. "If the king is involved, there will be more moving parts to the plan. What they don't know won't hurt them."

"I… don't like it, but I can see the point…" Tyrion relented, rubbing his temples. "Your house possibly has the Red Keep by the bollocks right now, finding the folly of Aerys right under it."

"We take no joy in it," Hamakaze said, mirthless. "We are taking inventory of it right now, but it will take time. The mapping team started today, and extraction can hopefully be completed within… two, maybe three weeks."

"Then how can House Lannister… no, how can I help?" Tyrion asked, locking eyes with Hamakaze.

"Well… not much, aside from maybe pulling a few men you can truly trust to establish a security cordon around the extraction route..." Hamakaze said, her tone wondering. "Actual extraction of the jars is very dangerous work, and a mishap could mean the whole building will go up in flames. Hyuuga and our operative are currently tackling how to best settle that matter."

"That can work," Tyrion said. "There's the matter of the Master of Whisperers, however."

"The king's… spymaster, is it not?" Hamakaze replied with a question. "I think his name is… Varys?"

"Yes. He has agents who fed him information from across the realm, some of them doubtless using the underbelly of the Red Keep to deliver their trade to him while unseen," Tyrion explained. "Tell me, has your agent discovered any of them while doing his trade?"

"She's under orders to avoid any human contact while mapping the secret corridors, but I'll have to ask…" Hamakaze answered the question.

"I see… Well, I suppose we will have to tackle this matter as it surfaces," Tyrion replied as Hamakaze dismissed the ward on the walls. "Shall we get to selecting men after my… session is done, then?"

"That is fine," Hamakaze said, making no move to exit the room.

"I'll take the room beside this then…" Tyrion replied, opening the door to the room.

"Why not… here?" Hamakaze asked, a shadow of a giggle in her tone. "Do you perform inadequately under pressure, my lord?"

"Why you cheeky sea-lass," Tyrion grumbled in a faux offended note as a dark-skinned young girl stepped inside, around Tyrion's body blocking the entryway.

"Greetings, milord… and lady," the dark-skinned girl said.

"Alayaya, I presume?" Tyrion said.

"I am her," Alayaya answered Tyrion's question, her words colored with a hue of confusion. "I… didn't know that you'd bring company, milord."

"She's my betrothed," Tyrion half-grumbled as he shut the door.

"I like to watch," Hamakaze said in a sing-song voice.

* * *

…

* * *

"Ser Oakheart," Barristan said, looking up from his food on the table.

"Lord-Commander," Arys replied, before sitting down across his commander. A serving boy set down today's supper before him, and Arys thanked the boy.

"How was Ser Jaime?" the Lord-Commander said after Arys swallowed a few bites of bread.

"Almost like a boy in love?" the kingsguard replied after a chuckle. "If he's not guarding the younger royals, he would practice as much as his condition allows him to… or see our guests practicing on the grounds if it's their day. Sometimes he would take Tommen to the practices if he can get away with it."

"Oh, that foolish boy," Barristan said, sharing the light mood. "Getting injured and plotting revenge already. Sometimes I wonder where Gerold and I got it wrong… though I heard you have been socializing with them yourself."

"I was simply curious of women practicing arms at first," the younger man professed. "Then I saw them in mock combat… and by The Seven, if goldcloaks are half as proficient as them King's Landing will be devoid of miscreants by the year's end."

"One of them killed Euron Greyjoy, Varys had said," Barristan said. "His head is on a pike beside Casterly Rock's gate, and when I asked Jaime he confirmed it."

"Dangerous girls indeed…" Arys agreed. "Which one of them?"

"Varys didn't say, and I didn't ask Jaime," Barristan replied to the question. "Though it can't be Lady Hamakaze, since she's busy in Casterly Rock until they departed."

"Busy?" Arys asked.

"Apparently as an apprentice to Tywin Lannister himself?" Barristan said. "Both Jaime and Varys isn't wholly sure of the nature of the arrangement, other than the betrothal."

"Tutelage of statecraft from the Old Lion himself… sers and lords will trample each other in a rush to offer their firstborn for such an arrangement," Arys said. "They are surprisingly savvy in the game of thrones."

"Quite so," Barristan said before he sipped on his drink.

"Do you think they will try and enter this next tournament, Lord-Commander?" Arys asked. "The Imp's betrothed is a skilled bowman, definitely able to win an archery contest barring practice injuries, the odd master huntsman joining, and luck. Lady Kasumi has her quirks, but she's a strong fighter though her methods are… questionable at times."

"Plausibly, if they can get past the enrollment process," Barristan said after a sip of mulled wine. "Disguise themselves as hedge knights with armor, perhaps get a few trusted Lannister men as squires… maybe borrow their squires otherwise."

"A distinct probability, I see… but nay, that would be impossible with lady Hamakaze," Arys replied with a pause. "She has the most ample… tracts of land. Her height made it look even more massive."

"Ser Oakheart!" Barristan said with a faux scandalized tone. "Leering on the betrothed of a highlord's heir? Shame on you!"

"Peace, Lord-Commander, peace!" Arys said after a bout of laughter.

* * *

...

* * *

As with everything in the Deep North, the watch atop The Wall was cold. Summer or winter, snow is always a reliable friend. When the elevator creaked, the Lord-Commander of the Night's Watch turned. It would be another cold day, despite the summer the rest of the continent was enjoying.

"Yarwyck," the Lord-Commander greeted as the man called Yarwyck stepped out of the elevator. "Pretty early for you to be here."

"I have to check that collapsed shelter now if I am to fix it by sundown, Lord-Commander Mormont," Yarwyck replied. "The cold always gets to your bones, isn't it."

"Aye," Mormont replied. "Stay a little more for daybreak, Othell. It is a clear day and surely you need the full daylight anyway."

"Of course, Jeor," Yarwyck replied.

Things were quiet for a few moments as the sun came out of the horizon and lower-ranked watchmen mill about finishing the night shift patrols.

"Lord-Commander, there are movement in the trees," one of the watchmen said, pointing to a direction on the treeline. Mormont went to the northern crenellation, beside said watchman.

"Wildlings? Mighty brave of them," Yarwyck commented.

"Normally I'd prefer wildlings I can see, but this is odd…" Mormont said. "There hasn't been any fires nearby throughout the night."

"The snows has been fairly mild for the last quarterly," Yarwyck replied. "Maybe they don't really need it that much?"

"You try that few miles outside The Wall's vicinity, Yarwyck, and I'd bet my sword you'd come back with gangrenous bollocks after three days," Mormont grumbled.

The men atop the wall watched with fascination as more and more movement became visible, wildlings who marched in a disorderly manner out of the treeline, halting just a few paces out from it as if forming a battle line. Fascination turned to horror as some black dots became mixed with the sea of ratty furs, the watchmen knowing well that no sane ex-watchmen would willingly wear their signature black amongst wildlings. The presence of rotting skulls and half-eaten heads coming to fore only confirmed what Jeor Mormont has feared.

"Sound the horn… sound the horn!" Jeor shouted to his paralyzed underlings. "Three blasts! The dead! The dead are here!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've temporarily snipped the part with the wight siege of The Wall. I might rewrite it a little.
> 
> 11/5/2020: Nah, I reinstated the shenanigans at The Wall in its original form. Might do an additional chapter later.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which preparations were made.

Kevan Lannister stifled a yawn. The afternoon was warm, and today's proceeding has mostly been small, easily-settled disputes. True to his own words when he parted with Tyrion and Jaime, Kevan's work has been anything but glorious. The court of the Westerlands were orderly and tranquil, and the feuds that has been common cases in the court seemed to have reached a lull period. Efforts to return the heirlooms Euron Greyjoy stole has been off to a slow start. A branch family member of the Mallisters of Seagard has been one of the first to claim one of the items from collection of heirlooms, an unsurprising development for Kevan since the Mallisters were pretty much a next-door neighbor to the Greyjoys. A Shield Islander noble is scheduled to meet him in the morrow, eager to reclaim his house's stolen heirloom.

"The last petitioner for today," the herald announced. "Lady Shioni of the House Kirino!"

"Oh?" Kevan Lannister perked up as the young silver-haired lady presented herself before the council.

"Greetings and salutations, Ser Kevan Lannister and the council of The Westerlands," Shioni said after she bowed to the assembled council. "I have come in the behest of my lady admiral Yamato, to deliver Lady Hamakaze's vessel and learn of the court as she once did."

"I see, I see," Kevan said, rubbing his chin."I was not informed of your coming, Lady Kirino, so imagine my surprise!"

"It was a spurious whim of the Lady Admiral as we sojourned in the seas," Shioni explained. "I was originally only sent here to deliver Lady Hamakaze's vessel, but at the last minute Lady Yamato added the new directive."

"I see. How good are you with numbers and letters?" Kevan asked.

"About as good as cousin Hamakaze, perhaps a little less sure in writing them," Shioni answered the question. "Although I am sure I must learn of the laws and intricacies of court first."

"Good, good. I shall have you start with scribe work like your cousin, under Master Willem here," Kevan said, gesturing to a master scribe on one of the side desk. Willem nodded. "When can you start your work?"

"Tomorrow, if it is required of me," Shioni said.

"I'm sure the rush would not be needed," Kevan replied, making a dismissive gesture. "Join us in three days, so you may recover the fatigue from your journey."

"Very well, Ser Lannister," Shioni said, bowing.

* * *

…

* * *

In contrast, the meeting in a secluded corner of the _Floundering Fishwife_ is much more tense. Disguised as a skiff flying a Northern banner, Asha's band of sailors managed to gain entry to Lannisport and settled in its shadier side of port relatively unnoticed. Earlier that day, one of the better-looking crewmen went to Casterly Rock to verify then news they got from Sharkey.

"So? How is it Qarl?" Asha asked, a note of impatience in her words. The night was young when Qarl arrived and the crew is finally gathered in the corner.

"I posed as a bard and mingled with court-goers to The Rock," Qarl said, nursing a tankard of beer. "It's there, off to the side by the main gate. Euron's head and the prow-statue of the Silence. It's true, I once saw that galley when it was anchored at Pyke."

"Damn…" a crewman breathed out.

"That's pretty scary," another crewman said. "Any news from the crew…? Well, mute prisoners at least. Creepy bastard."

"I tried asking around but nothing concrete," Qarl answered the question. "I think they're all dead."

"Not that it'll be any better if they're alive," Asha grumbled.

"Oh, and I also saw a young girl sitting with the council," Qarl threw in a final tidbit of information. "Maybe a scribe? Her hair is silver, though. I think that's not usual."

"Huh, weird," Asha commented. "But still, those bastards killed my nuncle. Crazy git that he is, he's still family."

"What are you going to do? Burn the ships at port?" a crewmember asked.

"And get our ass kicked the same way my lord father once did? Hell no," Asha said, her tone vaguely offended. "I'm thinking… a kidnapping. We snatch one of them Lannisters, see what they'd do."

"Is our pinnace even equipped to do that?" One of the crewmen objected.

"We'll be fine!" Asha said. "Now we plan the whole thing…"

* * *

…

* * *

"Erryk," a redcloak greeted, shaking the other man out of his reverie. "I'm relieving you."

"And now my watch has ended, Torrhen," Erryk japed, patting the taller man on the shoulder.

"Very funny," Torrhen replied, his face in a chagrin. "You try that up north and you'd probably lose a few teeth."

"You North-blooded lot, too serious for your own good," Erryk half-groused, stretching a little. "Where's the doom wagon?"

"I came behind it, so it must have been right up the doom room by now," Torrhen said. "We have a couple of minutes I reckon."

"To think that that accursed Targaryen king hid this much wildfire under his own palace," Erryk said before he sighed. "The toils to remove them is endless. Not a single day that those ladies stopped, and we've been here two whole weeks."

"Aye… such heroic deed for nothing more than the substances itself," Torrhen said. "If ever they opened their doors to accept employ, I'll leave The Rock for it."

"More likely to lower pay, though," Erryk replied. "Maybe try gaining employ directly under Lord Imp instead? His issue would be half-Kirino with Lannister fortune."

"Oh ye of little honor," Torrhen replied.

"What's wrong with that? Can't eat them bloody honour-" Erryk shot back, before movement behind Torrhen startled him. "Oi! This parts are forbidden…"

Said blur decided it is a good bargain to race forth, checking Torrhen on his unstable leg and causing the North-blooded man to stumble and fall to a heap. Erryk reacted by trying to draw his sword, but it was worn on the side nearer to the wall so he failed to draw it. The tresspasser was a blur as he passed Erryk and raced towards the larger tunnel, before a lithe girl grabbed him by the collar and slammed him to the ground.

"Stop! By the seven or I will-" Erryk said, having caught up to the blur just as Kasumi rendered him unconscious. "A thousand pardons Lady Kasumi! The bastard took us by surprise while we were talking!"

"No matter. Anybody injured?" Kasumi asked.

"Only bruises I reckon," Torrhen said finally catching up from behind Erryk. "Brat knocked me down but the fall wasn't too bad."

"Good," Kasumi replied. "Any ideas on who this boy is?"

"No milady, might have been one of the serving boys from the keep proper," Erryk said as Kasumi tied the boy up. "Maybe he took a wrong turn and got lost. There had been many people missing down here, often by taking a wrong turn like that."

"I heard a commotion from the wagon, is something amiss?" Tyrion said as he entered the scene.

"A trespasser bumped to us and tried to run away after knocking Torrhen down, milord," Erryk reported. "Lady Kasumi caught and knocked him out before he got to the main hallway."

"I see… we should take him into custody for questioning," Tyrion said. "Which one of you is doing the next shift?"

"I am milord," Torrhen replied to the question.

"Back to your posting then," Tyrion said. "Haul him to the boat, guardsman."

"Aye milord," Erryk said as he took the unconscious boy.

"I'm going to check the countermeasures," Kasumi said, giving Tyrion a final gaze as she trailed Torrhen. "I'll report any compromised items to Kirishima, so go ahead and transport the urns to the ship. I can catch the next boat."

"Thank you for the hard work, Lady Kasumi!" Tyrion said as the duet went deeper into the side-tunnel.

"Scary," Erryk commented. "She must have taken the boy down and subdued him between the blink of my eyes, milord… she is just that fast. Could she be as strong as one of those legendary Faceless Men? "

"Don't be ridiculous my goodman, Lady Kasumi can't shape-shift," Tyrion said before a sigh and a chuckle. "Tides are going out, apparently. We better hurry."

"Aye milord," Erryk said, hauling the boy behind Tyrion.

* * *

…

* * *

_To whom it might concern,_

_We found your operative in the undersides of the keep. If you have a use of him there, please make sure he does not trip into doors not meant to be open._

_Sincerely,_

_Western Fog_

* * *

Varys received the short message, and immediately contemplated how to take the next step. One of the Hand's men passed this note to him, and when he came to Jon Arryn for answers he cannot provide much beside pointing him towards the serving staff who brought it to his attention. After a little more sleuth work, Varys found the serving boy who received the message. The poor boy can only say that he met a few men while getting lost in the underbelly of the keep, then was subdued and lost consciousness. The tidbits of conversation ostensibly about the Westerlands and North having secret deals was juicy, but Varys didn't want to put much stock on that on account that the boy wasn't a trained Bird and could be inaccurate. Still, the bit is curious. Very curious.

Thus it came to this. Varys contemplated about getting in touch with Tyrion Lannister, thinking of him as a good bet for information. As it turned out, the day after Varys received the letter is the day that the Little Lion had his practice with the foreign ladies in the grounds. In fact, Varys spent some time studying the dwarf, who sat on a stool, huffing with the exertion of archery. The midday sun is right overhead, prompting Varys to make a move.

"My lord of Lannister," Varys' soft, not-quite-male voice sounded from behind Tyrion. It seemed to take all of the Westermen noble's willpower not to flinch. "I have received your message."

"Really?" Tyrion asked, clearly off-balanced by the sudden interaction. "I sent many messages these past few days."

"Is that so," Varys calmly replied. "It bears the signature of someone called the Fog of The West. Since you recently came from the Westerlands, I thought perhaps you have heard of this person."

"Ah… congratulations Lord Varys, you have met the Western Fog," Tyrion said as he made eye contact with the Master of Whisperers. _His tone shifted... more confident, as if expecting me_ , Varys thought. "So, are you prepared to hear what I and my betrothed's house is going to tell you?"

"That would be a most interesting subject, my lord," Varys agreed.

"Lady Kasumi, if you could fetch Lady Yamato please? The Spider wants a word with us," Tyrion called to Kasumi, who stood waiting for her turn in the range. Kasumi nodded, before she walked to Yamato and whispered something. The tall black-haired lady finished her arrows and finally gave the bow to one of their attendants. The lack of hurry is not lost to the spymaster.

"Good afternoon my lord," Yamato said after she wiped her brow from sweat and dust. "Tyrion, is this…"

"My name is indeed Varys my lady, I am glad to have made acquaintance," Varys cut Yamato before Tyrion could reply.

"Ah, The Master of Whisperers himself… excellent. I am Yamato Kirino, the head of House Kirino and soon-to-be Tyrion's goodsister," Yamato replied. "Would you know a place with… a little more shade, Lord Varys? I'm afraid the heat of King's Landing has its own… quirks compared to The Westerlands'."

"Right this way then," Varys said, making a gesture to follow him.

* * *

…

* * *

In Winterfell, the day has been mundane. The air was a bit nippy from a sudden summer snowfall last night, but the castle was able to function as it is every day. After all, winter is always coming this far north and the lord of the castle always reminded the populace of that.

"Letters from The Wall, milord," the maester said, opening the door to Eddard Stark's solar after an affirmative reply sounded from the inside. "They are marked with urgent priority."

"Thank you, Luwin," the lord said as he accepted the scroll and broke the wax seal. "It is unusual to have urgent messages from there…"

"Is… something amiss, Lord Stark?" Luwin said, noticing that the Lord-Paramount of The North has suddenly grown pale after reading the first letter, and now hurriedly breaking the seal to the second.

"…The dead marches to the wall," Ned Stark said after a while and two heavy, steadying sighs. "Lord-Commander Mormont and Benjen wrote the exact same thing. All three manned castles are besieged by a large amount of enemy. The watch calls for aid."

"By The Old Gods and The New…" Luwin breathed. "But surely there has been a mistake… I mean it's not even winter yet, the white raven…"

"Benjen is not a liar… never a liar," Ned's tone made it seemed that his voice is more a growl than his normal pitch. "Gather all my family here Luwin, but try not to cause a stir."

"Including…" Luwin replied, his tone hung in the air for a few heartbeats.

"Including Jon," Ned said, finishing the sentence. "My lady wife can raise all the fuss she wants but winter is coming… no, winter is here."

"Immediately, milord," Luwin said.

Left in silence in the confines of his solar, Ned Stark tried to calm down as Luwin's footsteps recede into background noise. _Deep breaths Ned, deep breaths_ , he thought to himself as he heard the voice of his youth in his head, _Use both your stomach and chest… in from the mouth, out from the nose_. The first to enter the solar is, surprisingly enough, his younger daughter Arya who poked her head into the room.

"Arya, glad to have you here quickly," Ned said, a small smile in his lips. "Are you hiding from someone? Maester Luwin, perhaps?"

"Got bored playin' an' Old Nan checkin' up on Hodor," Arya said, slightly abashed. "Tat a letter from Nuncle Benjen?"

"That it is," Ned replied, inwardly a little alarmed that his daughter can discern bits of his earlier conversation. "But let's wait for your mother, brothers, and sister for the reveal."

"Aight," Arya said as she took a seat across the desk from her father, the effort a little ungainly as the chair was made for adults in mind.

After a few minutes, other members of the family filed in. Sansa gave Arya an exasperated glare, one Arya returned with a smug smile. Jon Snow was the last to enter, and it was plain to see that the lad avoided Catelyn Stark's field of vision. Luwin then closed the door and stood a little ways to the side, ready to share his learned wisdon should it be needed.

"Arya, what is the house words of House Stark?" Ned opened the family meeting.

"Winter 's comin' father," Arya said glibly.

"Excellent," Ned replied, his gaze hardening as he presented the two letters to the table. "Cat, read this one. Children, read this one. That includes you, Jon."

"This…" Catelyn Stark finally said after heartbeats that stretched into infinity, her tone incredulous. The children reacted in various shades of understanding, from Robb's almost full comprehension and horror, to Arya's confusion. "This can't be real…"

"Unfortunately my lady, it is the truth. Both Lord-Commander Mormont and Benjen has stated the same thing and both are trustworthy, honorable men," Ned said in a grave tone, swapping the letter around. "Winter is coming, my lady, and it's on The North's doorstep now."

"What do you intend to do, my lord?" Luwin asked.

"I will call a meeting of Northern lords. We must unite against this ancient enemy," Ned answered the question. "I also need you to request aid from the Riverlands, Cat. Write to your father, see if they can spare extra shipments of grain for us."

"Very well, husband," Catelyn said, a little pale. "I shall write immediately."

"How about the king, milord?" Luwin asked.

"We… The North alone will try and resolve this matter for now," Ned said, as if swallowing a bitter pill. "The southron will demand proof, at least… the sooner we can procure one the better, but as things are we stand alone for the moment."

"Very well milord, I shall draft letters for the lords of The North, and one letter for the king," Luwin said, nodding.

"Children, the next days will be trying and I will need you to be on your best behavior," Ned said, gazing briefly into the eyes of each child present in the room. "Do you understand?"

"Yes Father," all of them replied as one, save for Jon who omitted the 'father' bit.

"Winter is coming," Ned said solemnly, bringing the meeting to an end.

"Winter is coming," the children replied as one.

Thus, The North prepares.

* * *

…

* * *

They say flying is freedom. That The Seven-that-is-One blessed the birds with the greatest freedom of all living things, the freedom to ply the skies. _Filthy liars, every single one of them_ , Brynden Rivers thought. Flying is the art of trying not to fall and cause grievous damage to one's body. It is a very complicated process and often result in falling, injuries, and death anyway.

Which is what was happening now, even though Brynden know full well that this is a dream he has walked into.

Dreamscapes are fickle things. Once Brynden came across a gate guarded by a four-legged eagle, a dragon, and a griffon, then another raven talked him down from trying to gain passage. Once he saw what can only be described as a maze of blocky steel, ripped apart by a man in leathers with a stringless crossbow no larger than a shortsword. Tonight however, he finds himself in a… boundary of sorts. The side he came from was dark as pitch, while ahead lay almost blinding whiteness.

"Who are you, pray tell, to be able to try and tap into the Joint Tactical Network?"

Thus Brynden looked, and what he saw defied the queerness of his first green-dream after ingesting weirwood seed paste. There stood a knight… of sorts. The helm was made of a glass half-dome that shone and glint yellow like gold, while the all-covering gambeson seemed like ten layers too thick and the boots are made of a similar material. The knight sat on a steel chair, elegant and tasteful with legs and back that flow together as if made with molten metal that was poured like water and then cooled instantly. The voice, however, is distinctly female.

"Forgive my trespass… the currents of the dreaming are unpredictable," Brynden replied to the question.

"Interesting," the figure said, the tone vaguely amused. "Then who might you be?"

"The Three-Eyed Raven," Brynden said simply.

"I see," the figure said. "Might I refer you as Raven, then?"

"You may," Brynden replied.

"Well then, mister Raven… have a seat. Or a perch," the queer knight said, the notes of a giggle lingering in her tone as she gestured to a chair across the table from her. "Might I interest you with a game of _igo_? Over tea, perhaps?"

"This is… quite a first for me," Brynden said. "But I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, my lady."

"I am Miraldi Codexad," the bubble-headed knight said as she lifted the visor of the helmet for the first time. "You may call me Mira."


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tywin laid down the law.

_"Lady Yamato, you will hand me that ship."_

The white room is tranquil that day. Three girls sat around the semi-circle table while a recording plays on a panel that functioned as a large screen. No surprise had shown on the three occupants' faces.

"She finally did it, didn't she…" Hyuuga sighed, leaning back to her chair.

"Mmhm," Yamato replied. "It's inevitable really. A ship that can traverse around Westeros in a quarter of the time it takes for a land convoy to do a much shorter route is a game-changer. If she would not make this move, I suspect the Master of Ships will."

"Yet the counter-offer you made seems… quite less substantial," Hamakaze said. "The Dragonpit seemed like a great piece of estate, even if you factor in the price to restore it… but it still doesn't quite meet the costs of producing a steelship."

"Well, they don't need to know the true value of the ship," Yamato said, stretching her arms a little. "They only need to know that it is much more than what they could reasonably afford."

"While it is a sound move to make," Hamakaze replied, her elbows on the table and her hands forming a bridge in front of her face. "Monarch and their consorts are seldom known for their common sense. I fear that what you were doing will only exacerbate matters."

"That might be so, but that enables us to ask help from other parties more concerned with the state of the realm," Yamato said, winking. "Hamakaze, brief Tyrion on this. Frame the information as potentially detrimental towards your betrothal."

"I… don't know if a lie like that will sit right with him," Hamakaze replied to the command, her tone unsure.

"The best lie is one that is part truth… that and I think he had suspected that this will happen," Yamato said confidently. "Or would you rather have me talk to him?"

"It may be more helpful that way," Hamakaze answered the question.

"Very well, we will confront him with this news tonight," Yamato said. "Tomorrow, we will all go to Jon Arryn with this information. If necessary, we will call on The Queen to verify."

"What if the Queen denies this allegation?" Hamakaze asked.

"We can call to witness the two Kingsguards guarding the door when she made the demand," Yamato answered the question. "They're told to stand guard in the inside that day."

"I can see Arys Oakheart beside Preston Greenfield there," Hyuuga said, pointing to a paused scene when Yamato's gaze sweeped across the entrance. "Kasumi has a sort of a friendship with Oakheart. She said the man is an honorable and upstanding knight."

"Preston Greenfield is very likely a Lannister loyalist though," Hamakaze said. "As a westerman, at least."

"Predictably so," Yamato voiced her agreement. "How many of them has political leanings to the queen, aside from Sers Barristan, Arys, Jaime, and Preston that we already knew?"

"According to Kasumi, Mandon Moore is inscrutable but a… rather good friend of Oakheart. He is also a valeman which probably puts his loyalty to Jon Arryn, if only by virtue of association," Hamakaze explained. "Meryn Trant is the queen's man from what Tyrion remembered."

"So… the queen's loyalists are Jaime, Greenfield, and Trant… Moore likely to be Jon Arryn's man, while Barristan and Oakheart are neutral or has other leanings," Yamato summarized that part of conversation. "If the late Blount are to be counted to the first camp then she has sunk her claws deep indeed."

"That's not counting court nobles, ladies-in-waiting, and other personnel," Hamakaze added, sighing. "Tyrion was spot-on when he said the Crownlands court are more fractious and difficult to navigate."

"Well, that's politics for you. I'm quite relieved that we're in no danger of dying to or being annihilated by their weapons, unlike Hawaiian Summits with other Grand Fleet Flagships," Yamato said, chuckling. "It's time for you two to go do that thing."

"It shall be done, Fleet Flagship," Hamakaze said before standing up and disappearing, Hyuuga following a moment later.

* * *

…

* * *

"This is the place," Yahagi said, standing before the largest and best-looking storefront in the Street of Steel. The sun is near the western horizon, and the bustle of the noontime city is gradually being replaced with the night-life. Hamakaze and Hyuuga trailed behind them, and behind the two a Lannister armsmen carried a sack of their belongings.

"Quite upscale, if I could say so myself," Hyuuga said after whistling her agreement. "Tyrion sure has a lot of knowledge of the capital."

"He has been here quite a few times after all," Yahagi said.

"Well then, no use standing around," Hamakaze said, pushing the door to the shop, prompting a chime to sound.

"Oh? Quite queer customers today," a bald old man greeted them. "How might I help you, miladies?"

"Master Tobho Mott, I presume?" Yahagi asked.

"Yes, I am him," Tobho replied.

"We of the House Kirino are here to commission a set of swords," Yahagi said their intentions.

"A sword for your lord, hmm?" Tobho nodded, before starting to add questions on to of the unanswered one. "Very well… what length of sword he preferred? How heavy is his build? Any preferred color?"

"You… misunderstood, master Mott," Hamakaze said, pointing to Yahagi. "We seek to smith a sword for her."

"That… is unorthodox, but as long as you provide the gold," Tobho said, slightly taken aback. "My work is nothing short of the best, with the cost that follows."

"Price is of no object," Hyuuga said, having finished looking at a few showpieces.

"Not only will we provide the gold, we will also provide the steel. Torrhen, the stuff please," Hyuuga said as the plainclothes-wearing soldier unveiled the contents of the sack he carried, revealing four disassembled thick candelabra made of smoky-black metal. "I hope this much will suffice?"

"Valyrian steel…" Tobho said, his hands instantly on the furniture. "This is quite a lot of steel, milady. Pieces like this, quite slender while still being fairly heavy… with this weight two longswords is possible, with some leftover for maybe a shortsword."

"Then we would need those two longswords smithed, one in the style common to Westeros and one in a style unique to ours," Hyuuga said. "Can you do it?"

"Yes, I can," Tobho replied to the question confidently. "Though I know not of this… specific style you would request."

"I have here a… detailed schematics of the swords of our style," Hyuuga said, offering a booklet to the master smith. "The dimension would have to be perfectly adhered."

"I see… this style of yours is unlike what I have seen," Tobho replied, leafing through the booklet of schematics. "Curved like an arakh, but with a gentler curve… then the sharpening is done only on the outside of the curve... With this slenderness, we are quite fortunate to be working with metal as strong as dragonsteel. Shape would be less of a factor."

"The specific curve is meant so that the sword can cut as soon as it leaves the scabbard," Hyuuga said, before she pointed out a few drawings and explained the dimensions. Tobho nodded a few times, his eyes alight with understanding.

"Use Kuroki as a base," Yahagi said, undoing the tassels of one of her swords to the belt before offering it to Mott. "You may take the hilt and guard assembly apart, as Hyuuga here can put it back together again."

"Interesting… Thank you for this loan, I shall treat it with the utmost care," Tobho replied before he unsheathed the blade and took a closer look. "Looks plain but this is deceptively ornate…"

"The curved sword would later be fitted with its own style of handle and guard, so you need only to smith the sword" Hamakaze pointed out. "The common-styled sword could be fitted with its own adornments, as your artistry allows."

"Understood, milady" Tobho replied, having sheathed Kuroki and put the blade on the table.

"You said there would be some leftover steel?" Hyuuga said. "Could it be smithed into… maybe a spearhead?"

"I believe so, though we will see," Tobho said, sighing. "Is there any way to contact you with this news?"

"We are staying with Tyrion Lannister at the inn operated by a master Wilman," Hamakaze answered the question.

"Ah, the Sunset Stag," Tobho replied with understanding. "I will send a messenger should the leftover metal prove enough for a spearhead."

"As with the markings detailed in the plan, would it cause any problems?" Hamakaze said, pointing out a page in the booklet detailing them.

"The size and intricacy could prove challenging, but none outside that," Tobho replied to the question. "So this is your clan marking, hmm? But this lion…"

"To bind our houses even tighter," Hamakaze said, smiling. "I am betrothed to a Lannister of The Rock. This will be… a part of the dowry."

"Is that so…" Tobho said, understanding bloomed in his tone. "Then it shall be done, milady."

"We would appreciate some measure of secrecy," Hyuuga said. "We'd want to give the old lord the surprise of his life, after all."

"Not too many will want to know, and I did most of the processes in secrecy anyway," Tobho adressed the concern. "Your secret is as safe as it gets with me."

"That is acceptable," Yahagi said, nodding.

"How long would you need?" Hamakaze asked.

"There are a lot of processes that must be done in reworking dragonsteel my ladies, so if you want it to be done before the upcoming tourney then you are out of luck," Tobho answered the question, rubbing his thinly-bearded chin. "Fifteen days, at the very least. Certainly after the tourney."

"After the tourney would not be a problem," Hamakaze said, nodding. "Now, as for the price, so we could lay an advance payment?"

"The total would be… nine hundred golden dragons for the two swords, fully furnished," Tobho replied to the question. "There might be additional costs with the spearhead, but we shall see about that one later."

"Ah, then we are at an agreement," Hamakaze said, smiling brightly. "Here is five hundred gold dragons as an advance. We will stay as you count it."

"I'm sure it will not be necessary, milady," Tobho chuckled.

"Call it a token of goodwill," Hyuuga said after a little giggle. "So you will know first-hand that we of House Kirino are a people of accountability."

* * *

…

* * *

The Lion's Gate loomed in the distance from Tywin Lannister, growing ever closer with every step the horse he was riding on. He vaguely remembered the gate opening to the command of Aerys, whom Pycelle has swayed into thinking that the Westerlander high-lord has come to defend the city. _It felt like a lifetime away_ , Tywin thought. A furlong off the gate however, Tywin noted a sight both familiar and odd.

"You are very late, my Lord of Lannister," the white-clad woman said, smiling as she sat on the seat of something that looks like half a palanquin and half a carriage, pulled by a broad man of probably humble origins. Tywin should have founded the statement to be a jape of a most infuriating manner, but can't help but smile.

"Then you, my Lady of Kirino, are very early," Tywin replied.

"You seem to be traveling ahead of the train, my lord," Yamato said as she straightened on the palanquin-wagon.

"They are camped at Hayford lands, a better part of a day's march away with Gerion in charge. A small party with swift steeds would shorten that by half," Tywin said as he stopped beside the vehicle. "Imagine my surprise when one of my house-guards was waiting with a letter for me there, sealed with your house's sigil."

"Let me… tell you as I ride alongside, my lord," Yamato said. "Off we go to the Red Keep, good man."

"Aye m'lady," the man said, and started to pull. Tywin's bodyguards took point, clearing the crowd that had gathered.

"This is a queer sort of carriage, my lady," Tywin said as they entered the city gates.

"A recreation from what Hyuuga had gleaned from our archives," Yamato said, a hand-fan providing her some relief from the humid heat of King's Landing. " _Jin-rikisha_ , if I recall the name right."

"And the… puller?" Tywin asked. "For a man to pull this sort of vehicle… the clergy must have had objections."

"One of Chump's lad, well-compensated for his work and silence. Honestly this is no more difficult than working the fields or hauling in the docks," Yamato answered the question. "Improvements are to follow, although whether Hyuuga goes for the beast route or pulley route I cannot say."

"I see. Then what is this news of the capital worth informing me early, my lady?" Tywin asked.

"I'm afraid this is a… bit of a touchy one, my lord," Yamato said, her tone slightly unsure. "Her Grace the Queen has issued a demand of lady Maya's ship. I made a counter-offer, one she has not responded in a satisfactory manner, thus delaying the conclusion."

"I… see," Tywin replied. "Fortunate of you to be able to inform me of this, Lady Yamato."

"It is by my design that a stalemate is created, Lord Tywin," Yamato said, sighing. "Your mediation would be a key factor."

"I could counsel against your benefit," Tywin replied.

"True, especially since this is your daughter we are talking about," Yamato said. "Yet I sense that you are foremost a man of merit, enough that my little sister and your deformed son can rise in your favor with their hard work."

"Despite their limitations and lot in life," Tywin added, sighing. "Very well, we will see that this issue will be decided in a satisfactory manner."

There were a few minutes of silence as they rounded a bend towards the city's central square, closer towards the Red Keep in a leisurely pace.

"Out of curiosity, what have you demanded from Cersei to cause her to balk?" Tywin asked.

"The Dragonpit," Yamato answered the question. "And royal financial backing to rebuild it to whatever we liked."

"I see… that is a steep bargain indeed," Tywin commented. "You could beggar the kingdom that way, even."

"The demand enabled me enlist the help of Tyrion and a few… key figures of the king's Small Council," Yamato said. "Principal amongst them, a certain Lord Arryn."

"Clever. Jon Arryn is indeed powerful enough to check my daughter's… illusion of power, While Tyrion's cunning would serve you well to predict what move my daughter will do," Tywin rubbed his chin with his free hand. "You are a surprisingly talented player, my lady."

"Player?" Yamato asked, her head slightly tilted to the side.

"Yes. It is from an old adage," Tywin said. "Kings and lords play a Game of Thrones, where there is only victory in rulership or death in the dirt."

"Quite a morbid saying," Yamato replied. "But not devoid of truth."

"You handled my daughter like an experienced hand, despite your relative isolation until recently," Tywin mused. "The kingdom would be wise to wonder."

"We do what we can for our family," Yamato said before a giggle broke out from her lips.

* * *

…

* * *

"Permit me to congratulate you, my queen," Tywin said, in the confines of a guestroom in the Red Keep. "For burning your finger poking a pie fresh out of the oven."

"It is for the good of the kingdom, Father!" Cersei replied, her tone high and indignant.

"What have you to say about this, Ser Kingsguard?" Tywin said, turning to Jaime.

"I tried to persuade her from the moment I arrived in the Red Keep, Father," Jaime said, his tone somewhat resigned.

"Of course you are…" Tywin sighed. "Cersei, you will retract your foolish request and make effort to placate them."

"Why would we need to placate them?" Cersei replied, hot and indignant. "We lions have no concern with the wants of sheeps!"

"Then let me ask something to you Cersei," Tywin said, his tone cool after he let out a harsh snort. "What do you think is about as powerful as gold and armies?"

"Wh-… what…? Nothing is as powerful as gold and armies!" Cersei replied, thrown off-balance by her father's question.

"It is goodwill," Tywin said. "Did you know why I drown all those blasted silver cats in Castamere?"

"They… brook no good will towards you," Jaime replied unsurely.

"Ah, I see you have proven yourself more intelligent than the queen, my good ser," Tywin said after a derisive snort. "You are correct. Mind you, there are many other borrowers who squandered the riches of our house in your grandfather's time, but I only razed Houses Reyne, Tarbeck, and a few more minor houses who followed them to the end. Not the Baneforts, who took advantage of my father's permissiveness by securing a massive loan… because they needed a series of sturdy new bridges on a vital road network. Not the Crakehalls or Lannisport merchants, who were remorseful enough to agree on repayment plans as soon as their masterminds retreated from Casterly Rock."

There was a short silence as the old lord gathered his breath for the other part of his explanation. Jaime pushed a goblet of wine towards Tywin's hand, a gesture that Tywin barely acknowledged.

"The overall debt of those spoiled cats and their cronies is not insurmountable, mind," Tywin resumed the explanation after a thirst-quenching sip. "When I looked after the fact, we would have been able to recoup what they had owed within five years… at most ten if unforseeable factors are to be accounted generously. That is well within my lifetime if they done it yesterday, more so if they had done it just after I returned from The Stepstones."

"But those wenches are just some Essosi clump of whore-daughters who probably stumbled upon a valyrian artifact ship!" Cersei replied, the heat in her voice flaring up again. "They have no power, no connection, no significance!"

"If they are indeed a bunch of whores, they are much more honorable and dignified than you!" Tywin barked harshly before returning to his softer, condescending tones. "Oh, they possess might and they know it. A whore will surely ask for bullion ransom, enough for a small kingdom in exchange for your uncle, instead of… merely… asking for tutelage of statecraft and giving me a decent sword for it. No, Cersei, despite your allegations these are not whores we are facing with."

"Broken Brightroar, too," Jaime piped up.

"That, too. After that fact, do they behave like a petulant, spoiled children while being hosted within The Rock?" Tywin said, acknowledging with Jaime's addition. "Not a single day. Their conduct and work ethic are spotless. They sought to help their hosts in various small ways. I have suffered more churlish squires and castellans than my sword tutor, and that warrior is a woman."

"Then… what would you suggest Father?" Jaime asked, after a cooling pause. Cersei threw him a dirty look of betrayal.

"As I have said before, retract your attempt at bargaining and keep your clumsy paws off," Tywin said, as if addressing a particularly dim underling. "Your small brother has won their hearts, and I would not have you undo the effort. In a few years I might approach Jon Arryn with a possibility of betrothal between Joffrey and one of their younger cousins, in addition of apprenticeship in statecraft for Tommen or Myrcella. Perhaps not an ideal match, but Joffrey can only go far from there."

"Joffrey is not a piece for your bargaining!" Cersei shot back, again her tone flaring hot.

"Do you want their ships, or not?" Tywin replied, his tone calm and condescending.

Jaime could only see his sister's inability to respond, and understood the finality of the argument.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which people beheld visions.

"M'lord," the captain of a large ship greeted a dour-faced man emerging towards the bridge. The morning was calm, with a breeze just enough to ward off the humid heat the Crownlands are known of yet not strong enough to hamper travel.

"Ser Davos," the man replied, taking his place beside Davos.

"Just as the errant captains said, Lord Stannis," Davos said as their ship sailed past the two floating fortresses out of the bay, some distance from King's Landing's smaller port meant for royal use. "The foreign ships of steel…"

"Part of me wanted to demand them for the kingdom," Stannis said. "Seven knows what iron bows like that can do to a wooden hull. Their sheer size…"

"Aye, I reckon they wouldn't rip against rocks easily too," Davos replied. "Seven knows how much men and goods they can shift with a trip."

"This might merit a... serious discussion with the king," Stannis mused. "Or our Lord Hand."

"They are reputed to be able to traverse around the kingdom within a week… Lannisport, Arbor, Sunspear, Tarth, then King's Landing," Davos said, steering towards the harbor aided by the wind from the stern.

"Could be true, could be idle boast," Stannis countered.

"Makes some sense, at least," Davos said. "First news of the steelship is at the latest three weeks old, and they only report one ship being anchored away from the harbor. We only heard of Tywin Lannister's arrival yesterday morning when we sailed. Simple sums would put them at least… two, three weeks early."

"Usually ships would take twice as long as a comparable land caravan in a journey from Lannisport to King's Landing… we'd know, bringing the Royal Fleet's ships for the attack on the Iron Islands took almost three moons," Stannis said. "And that was on a favorable season. Favorable trade winds for eastward sailing wouldn't be here for at least a moonturn."

"A very queer situation indeed, my lord," Davos replied, the ship now close enough for guides and tugs to do their job aligning it to the dock.

"As if Tywin Lannister needs more power in his hands…" Stannis groused. "Ser Seaworth, I trust you know what to do?"

"Aye milord," Davos replied as dockhands start to fasten the war-galley to the pier.

* * *

…

* * *

Fire.

The hot sun of a blistering summer.

Queer barges and a foreign sea.

Red priests don't tend to get prophetic dreams, but R'hllor works in mysterious ways. At least that's what Melisandre thought for herself as she floated above a vast expanse of seas. Two banks of vessels made a battle line, waiting for an unseen command.

"Oh, you already know how to fly," a large raven said, soaring beside her.

"Is this your doing, bane-crow?" Melisandre asked, her tone harsh.

"Mine? No… we are viewing a memory," the raven said,

"Is that… their weapon?" the red priest said as streaks of light race between the two sides.

"Yes," the raven said, its tone almost a wispy sigh. "Pillars of compressed fire that reduces everything to vapors… smoky fire that propels more fire towards their enemies, even fire-powered catapults. Fire, fire, fire… the world is on fire."

"Fire? But… it's impossible…" Melisandre mumbled, looking at a vessel drowning, its hull gutted by the pillar of fire.

"Just because water in the stream and fog between the trees looks different, doesn't mean that they are two different matter," The crow replied. "What is fire, anyway?"

Melisandre was struck with silence. It felt like minutes before words started to trickle out of her mouth. "Fire is… the earthly manifestation of our god, the One True God…"

"A priest of fire who knows not what fire is," the raven said, almost in a chuckle.

"Silence!" Melisandre shouted. "You will not besmirch the holy soul of our god, heathen!"

"We have no power here, priest of red," the raven said. "But find the truth of fire, and you might find the answer."

* * *

…

* * *

The quiet and calm seas reflected the pale half-moon that night. Asha smiled to herself as she plotted a course towards a hamlet she had noted from a few days ago. From there, they can go on a straightforward run towards Pyke with enough supplies rustled from greenlanders.

The operation was largely successful. By contacting a few rabble sympathetic to their cause, Asha was able to devise a plan where they would cause confusion, snatch a Rock Lannister, and flee the docks in the ensuing chaos. The getaway wasn't as flawless as she had planned, but it had served its purpose.

Asha then smiled as she looked at her hostage. She had vocalized loudly that she is Myrielle Lannister, daughter of Stafford Lannister. Asha was by no means knowledgeable of the Lannister family tree, but she know the man's name at least. He was at Pyke with the stag king's army, the one who found her and Theon in their hiding-hole. To have his daughter means she had him by the proverbial balls.

The boat then was rocked by a gentle bob of waves. It was a few moments of choppy seas in an otherwise calm night.

"Captain…?" a sailor said unsurely, peeking into what little quarter could be spared for captain and hostage. "The waves got weird just now…"

"Must be some rogue wave, reaver. Get back to your watch, we're not completely safe yet," Asha dismissed the reaver.

"Aye cap'n," the reaver said, getting back to his post. A few moments pass in peace, before her bound captive woke. Myrielle's eyes looked at the young reaver captain, her gaze half tired and half fearful.

"Enjoying the cruise, Lannister?" Asha said, giggling. The captive doesn't seem to humor her, though her eyes stayed trained at Asha.

"You know, I've always wondered how It feel to have salt-wives…" Asha said as she licked her lips. Myrielle's eyes widen in terror. "My nuncle has a few."

Myrielle shifted a little, trying to sit upright against the inner side of the hole.

"His third salt-wife has this really funny little boy… Nuncle won't admit it but he loved the way that little brat smile," Asha monologued. "That's my nuncle, the father and nuncle who you fat cats has so callously murdered!"

There were silence after Myrielle recoiled to the sudden exclamation.

"You'll be a fine salt-wife for my lord father…" Asha continued her monologue. Terror starts to settle in Myrielle's gaze. "I know he wanted another son… after you fucking greenlanders took Theon…"

"Captain!" a frantic call sounded as a crewmate barged into the "T-the smoke… the smoke! Out of nowhere, smoke!"

"What the hell… you stay here and guard the lady, I'm going topside to check," Asha grunted.

Not long after Asha disappeared, a series of heavy thuds impacted the deck and the cacophonous clanking started. The terror in Myrielle's gut churned into uncertainty. _Could this be a rescue? Or a rival pirate?_ She thought to herself.

"Who the fuck are yHNGGAAAAHHRRRK-!"

Myrielle wanted to cover her ears, but her hands are bound. She then decided to lay on her side, curled into a fetal position. She heard the door being broken into, and she braced for the worse.

"Found her," Myrielle heard a different but familiar female voice said. Then there were footsteps of several people.

"L-l-lad-dy Shi-i-o…?" Myrielle stuttered, feeling the grip her bonds and gag slack as she was tended to. Before long, she could wriggle herself free from the rest of the ropes.

"Be not afraid, you are among friends," Shioni said, quick to envelop the stuttering Lannister in a hug. "Ser Sarsfield, blankets for the lady please. In the bag."

"Aye milady," the male voice said, presumably Sarsfield.

Warmth then enveloped Myrielle, the blanket a familiar feeling on her skin. Thus the emotion burst and the young lady let out a wailing cry to Shioni's shoulder. The crying went on for a long while, and when Myrielle gathered enough of herself to stop crying the men has left them.

"Are you well enough to walk?" Shioni asked in a gentle tone. Myrielle nodded. "Then let's get you home, yes?"

Thus Myrielle Lannister got up and started to walk, with Shioni Kirino beside her as her support. They emerged to the deck to find that the carnage had finished, with many men dead and several bound. The captain lady laid unconscious and bound a few paces away, perhaps spared for questioning and potential ransom.

"S-she…" Myrielle stopped her dainty steps beside the captain and started to say.

"My lady, we should get you to the steelship immediately," Sarsfield interrupted. "We'll deal with these wretches later, maybe toss them to the fishes…"

"S-she… iss Euron G-Greyjoy's… nniece…" Myrielle stuttered out.

"That is mighty brave of you, my lady," Shioni said, patting her back. "She sounds like a valuable prisoner, Ser Sarsfield."

"Indeed Lady Kirino. I was commanding the reserves in Pyke so I don't know for sure, but if this is indeed Asha Greyjoy… this could be a great matter," Sarsfield replied. "Lord Tywin must be notified."

"I'm sure Ser Kevan will do that as soon as we dock at The Rock," Shioni said. "Let's get our lady here topside first, I'm sure Ser Stafford has recovered somewhat."

"Aye. The men and I shall keep guard of our prisoner here," Sarsfield said, nodding.

* * *

…

* * *

"There was a raven for you last night, milord," a redcloak said as he offered Tywin a sealed letter. Tyrion, Yamato, and Gerion was sitting with him on a long table in the inn's main hall, the remains of a breakfast service spread amongst them. "The Grand Maester only noticed of its arrival early this morning, and thought little of it as it was not marked with priority."

"Thank you," Tywin replied to the guardsman before he broke the red wax seal stamped with his own house-sigil.

"News from home, Father?" Tyrion asked.

"Yes… oh, Myrielle had been kidnapped, it said here," Tywin replied as he read, his tone calm although some surprise was evident. "Ironborn. How bold of them…"

"By The Seven," Gerion said, his tone shifting to concerned. "Has a rescue attempt been mounted? Surely Stafford and Kevan won't take this lying down."

"It had been mounted," Tywin said after a sip of his morning ale. "The recovery operation was spearheaded by Shioni Kirino using a steelship, and the perpetrators had been apprehended."

"A Kirino? Must have arrived after we departed," Gerion commented.

"I commanded Shioni to to deliver Hamakaze's ship to be anchored in Casterly Rock," Yamato explained her reasoning. "Have her learn some statecraft along the way… could be handy someday."

"Is that so," Tywin said.

"Apparently a wise move since she accomplished this great deed," Yamato replied. "The sense of humor gods have are mysterious."

"We met up with the lady somewhere near the Stepstones," Tyrion added after he sighed. "Who is this bold Ironborn captain? Has his head been mounted on a pike beside Euron's?"

"Apparently a woman named Asha," Tywin said as he read on from the message. "Kevan has taken… a more lenient stance and imprisoned her, pending ransom."

"Asha… wait, Balon Greyjoy does have a trueborn daughter named Asha, isn't it," Gerion said. "I think I remember a girl and a boy as we forced him to his knees in his castle in Pyke… Theon Greyjoy were sent to The North as a hostage but Asha Greyjoy was allowed to be kept in his father's custody."

"Ah… then this woman could be a great bargaining chip to have," Yamato said. "After all, the general consensus seem to paint the Iron Isles to be a wretched hive of scum and villainy."

"That's… a colourful way to say it," Gerion commented.

"For what the lady is worth to her father, anyway. I'm sure Kevan has his considerations," Tywin snorted, folding the message. "We'll sort this out when we come back home. An opening to pressure Balon Greyjoy is a good opportunity however we slice it."

"Aye, because now we have a tourney to win!" Gerion said enthusiastically.

"Only you, our knights, and the armsmen nuncle," Tyrion corrected. "I will be quite glad to make a few well-placed bets and win myself some good coin."

"Aww… not even the archery?" Yamato said, almost in a pout. "You're getting pretty good with the bow, you know."

"Let the man do what he is good at, Lady Kirino," Tywin said, a little warmth in his voice as he tossed a purse to the table. "Tyrion, manage my… investment for this tourney and see it increased at least by half."

"Your will be done, sire," Tyrion replied as the hefty purse of coins hit the table. He cradled it for a moment before speaking. "…this is at least three hundred gold coins, Father. It is quite a tall order."

"Call it a lesson in predicting the tide of a war," Tywin said, getting up from his seat.

* * *

…

* * *

"Next one, please," the man on the admission counter said, waving a black-armored man forward. His brows perked a little. "Name and origin?"

"Soddart Hill, of Lannsglen," the knight in black armor and mustached faceplate said. "Near Lannisport, two days and a half by horse."

"A hedge knight from the Westerlands, I see," the man said. "You have a sponsor?"

"Lord Tyrion Lannister sponsored me," the knight succinctly said.

"Hunh, that's a new one. Never heard The Little Lion sponsoring someone before, usually he just betted on whoever's gunna win," the admission man said. "Have a writ for that?"

"Squire Crakehall, my writ?" Swordheart asked the boy beside.

"H-here, ser," Graeme replied, producing a scroll. The admission man accepted and unrolled the scroll, reading it for a few moments before looking back to the knight.

"Heh, writ looks right," the admissions man said. "People as you liked to throw names around, thinking it'll give 'em clout… not many were backed by written word. How didja get to his service, anyway? With a Crakehall squire no less."

"Said he was sympathetic of those who are crippled, broken, and born on the wrong side of the bed… who am I to question the lord's wisdom," the black knight said. "Oh, and young Graeme here is fostered in The Rock, a distant relative to Lord Crakehall. The armsmaster saw it fit to assign him to me, try to get him experiences since not many knights needing squires pass through The Rock lately."

"So, what contest are you signing your name into?" the man behind the table said, handing the scroll back to the black-armored knight.

"Only the melee," the knight said. "My usual horse is nearing its end and I haven't broken my new horse properly yet… don't want to get thrown off in the first round."

"A humble knight in Lannister employ," the admission man said as he noted the knight's name in the big book. "I like you already, my man. Your preliminaries will be in midday in the morrow, right over there in the melee grounds… brackets will be posted in the morn. What weapon will you use?"

"A glaive," Swordheart said.

"Check it in at the inspector over there. He closes a bit before sundown today," the admission man said after he blows over the drying ink. "If you didn't sign your weapon in, you'd get a weapon from the junkpile tomorrow."

"Will a quarterstaff of my own be an acceptable replacement?" Swordheart asked.

"You will have to check with the inspector," the admission man said in reply.

"Understood," Swordheart said, ending their conversation.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a bet simultaneously turned sour and sweet.

"Good morning, Ser Swordheart," Graeme said, tray laden with food and drink in hand. "To break your fast."

"Morning Graeme… the drink please," the black knight replied, sitting on her cot as Graeme handed her a mug of tea. "Did you get a good rest?"

"Not as bad as when I… was on the road with you," Graeme said, nodding as Swordheart sipped her tea. "Your armor has been readied, but I'm still waiting for your weapon."

"We'll probably get it just before we're due for our preliminaries," Swordheart said after she exhaled. "What have I taught you on the road?"

"The simple form of the Eight Winds Fist," Graeme said, a little unsteadily. "I have been practicing but I still stumble… a little. Not much."

"It is to be expected," Swordheart said, accepting her meal of eggs and pork. "It will be a while before you can string out all of the motions fluidly. When I judge you ready, we will move on to more complicated forms."

There was a call from the front of the tent, and Graeme sprang to action as soon as he handed the dish he was carrying. He then made way to reveal Daven Lannister on the threshold.

"Ser Daven, do come in," Swordheart greeted. "Bread and salt…ed pork?"

"Haha, don't mind if I do," the Lannister knight said. "I ate with the boys already though, thank you."

"How was the road?" Swordheart said after swallowing a bite of pork, before she gestured to a low stool.

"Par on course, I suppose," Daven said, sitting down. "A band of rabble actually tried absconding with a small chest. Ser Gerion and y-… a few brave knights tracked them down."

"I'm sure they get a healthy dose of comeuppance," Swordheart said.

"Dropped them with some Crownlander lord… probably will be given for The Night's Watch," Daven said. "Gonna be in the melee, huh? Watch out for Gregor Clegane I guess."

"He's not in the joust?" Swordheart said. "Interesting."

"No… he haven't got a horse strong enough to properly carry him after his last one died of exhaustion… scant days before he was called for this escort I believe," Daven said. "Damn near killed his stablemaster in anger, too. Scary man."

"Much news about a landed knight," Swordheart said after swallowing a helping of her food.

"Sandor was very forthcoming," Devan replied.

"Sibling rivalry, huh…" Swordheart mused.

"Looks more like hatred if you ask me," Devan opined. "They never ate by the same hearthfire if they can help it."

"Interesting," Swordheart said after she took a sip from her drink, one eyebrow raised."So, are you on the jousts or are you going to try your luck against the behemoth too?"

"The jousts for me," Devan replied. "I've won several modest jousts in the Westerlands and I'm ready to challenge a big one."

"Then will you join the melee afterwards?" Swordheart asked.

"Normally I would, but a melee with the hulking Mountain of The West and the swordsman who bested Jaime Lannister? That is a feat for heroes of old… of which I am not," Daven said, chuckling. "Besides, since the melee and joust is run concurrently, The only way to participate in both are to qualify for the final rounds of the jousts early. I'm confident in my abilities, but I'm sure I can't do that well."

"Then I wish you luck," Swordheart said before she handed her plate to Graeme.

"I might try and ask your cousin's hand for marriage if I win!" Devan declared, pride in his voice.

"Alas young Lannister, 'if' could be a cruel and terrible word indeed," Swordheart said, chuckling. "Which one of them are you smitten on?"

"I've been thinking on asking for Lady Suzutsuki," Daven replied to the question. "Though I'm sure my father would be happy with anyone remotely within your house."

"Ah… could be as feisty as a harpooned dolphin, that one," Swordheart said as she got up and stretched. "I wish you the best nonetheless."

* * *

…

* * *

"Morning red bracket huh…" Swordheart mumbled before she let out a sigh. "Do you recognize any names in our bracket, squire?"

"Not many… Ser," the youngster said. "Only The Hound, Ser Banefort, and Ser Brax. Maybe there's some armsmen in there, but I don't see many familiar names."

"Not insurmountable," Swordheart said, before letting out a sigh. "Still, eight brackets of ten people times three sessions for two days… forty-eight people for the final melee at least."

"That's a lot of people…" Graeme noted.

"Chaos, for sure," Swordheart said solemnly.

"Red bracket huh," a newly-arrived gruff voice beside Graeme said. "Oh, Graeme, din't seeya there for a moment. Where's your knight?"

"He's… here," Graeme said.

"Hello, my good man," Swordheart added with a faux manly voice.

"Hello to you- Mother of Gods is that stubbles," Sandor Clegane replied, momentarily stunned by the face staring back at him. "What the fuck…"

"It… startled me too, Mister Hound," Graeme said as Sandor shot him with an incredulous glare.

"Aw come on, just because I shave every day I can doesn't mean I won't ever get stubbles," Swordheart quipped, trying to deflect the suspicion. "Did you get your weapon inspected? I'm heading there now, let's talk along the way."

"Nay, m' happy with junkpile weapons," Sandor replied as he followed the warrior and squire. "Guess there'll be an explanation for that?"

"A couple bits of finely-chopped hair and some clay, bit of egg white for adhesive, some fine powder of a correct color… just some distraction really. Let people fill in the rest themselves," Swordheart said as they arrived at the weapon inspection booth. "Ho, inspector. I am looking for my arms. Soddart Hill of Lannsglen."

"Aye, Ser… just one moment," the arms inspector replied. He then looked around for a bit before bringing up said weapon. "Your arms have been approved. Quite a well-made one, to be honest… almost a shame for it to be clashed with other weapons."

"The smith in Lannsglen is surprisingly skilled," Swordheart replied, tossing him a silver stag that almost went uncaught. "Lannister gold also helped."

"Much obliged. I hope you do well in the contest," the inspector said. "How about you, good Ser?"

"I'm no Ser, so junkpile stuff's enough for me," Sandor replied.

"Gather under your color when the bell rings," the inspector said as a parting remark.

"Nice gentleman. Well, time to armor up then," Swordheart said as they walk off the inspector's counter. "See you at the arena?"

"Aye," Sandor replied. "May the best win."

* * *

…

* * *

"Begin!"

Contrary to popular prediction, the ten warriors gathered in the circular melee arena didn't fly off the gate slashing right away. There was some gauging and looking, causing some tense moments to pass without anyone making a significant move. With four contestants from the Westerlands against a mishmash of contestants from other regions, there were evidently some regional politicking as well.

"Bit of a pickle here aren't we Hound?" the knight with the single-horned helm said. The four Westerlander participants are surrounded by the six other, the four of them pressed into a tight back-to-back circle.

"Aye, this is some predicament," Sandor said from inside her dog-helmed armor.

"Some predicament he said," another westerlander, a black-armored knight with a hooded man painted on his shield, grumbled.

"You break it, Hound," Swordheart suggested.

"Fuck you, Sod," Sandor replied.

"Aww. Well, you may try sometimes you dog," Swordheart said, chuckling before she took initiative. In her front was a lightly-armored Dornish man, who suddenly found himself eating a faceful of boot from a vaulting kick. All hell then broke loose.

"Whoa," the shield-carrying westerlander said in an impressed tone. "That Sod's pretty clever. Where did you know him, Hound?"

"Just a sword tutor, Banefort," Sandor replied, parrying an attack from a young knight carrying a shield painted with rose motifs before he knocked his helm with the pommel of his sword. The blow was in such a ferocity that the young knight was instantly down on the dirt.

"You mean he's…" the Banefort knight started to say. He never finished his sentence however, since Sandor's broadsword knocked him unconscious with an unexpected blow to the right temple.

"Cunts and suckers, the lot of you," Sandor grunted before he stalked around, finding more contestants to bash.

* * *

…

* * *

"Ooh, gruesome," Tyrion commented as he eyed Sandor's performance from one of the high tribune bench erected for the tourney. "That was quite a well-placed investment…"

"Too bad he and Ser Yabane is in the same bracket," Hamakaze said. "S-… he is doing pretty well, all said. Don't you think so, Owari-san?"

"Hahaha! My little s-… brother is second to none!" The tall girl sitting beside Hamakaze said, laughing as she leaned to her quarterstaff.

"That's why I put my father's bets for the bracket on them," Tyrion said. "Then I realized one would have to eliminate another. Oh well."

"Well, Westerlander warriors are a minority in all the other brackets, to be fair," Hamakaze said. "And now, there's certainly one Westerlander finalist whoever should prevail between our cousin or The Hound."

"Mm, " Tyrion said. "Not a total loss by any stretch. This is but a first of many brackets still."

"Quite right, quite right!" Hamakaze agreed. "I'm sure there are plenty good prospects in other brackets?"

"Oh, there are a lot in this melee alone," Tyrion answered the question. "For starters, the Viper of Dorne has graced us with his presence."

"The Viper of Dorne… that's Lord-... Prince Oberyn Martell, wasn't it?" Hamakaze said, unsurely.

"None other than him. A little queer for him to show up, since our king cares little for Dornishmen in general," Tyrion remarked.

"It seemed that even Dornishmen could not resist the temptation," Hamakaze commented.

"More than enough to justify the expenditure," Tyrion said, rubbing his chin. "Though when I thought about it, it seems pretty convenient…"

"What is?" Hamakaze asked.

"I heard from nuncle Gerion that one Mountain would be participating in the melee instead of joust due to a lack of suitable horses…" Tyrion said. "Surely this sort of coincidence is…"

"The prize is a king's ransom all in itself," Owari added to the conversation. "Surely that attracts people from far away, conspiracies excepted."

"That is so... word on the grapevine said that Mace Tyrell is also present," Tyrion idly recounted. "Garlan Tyrell has been a rising star in Reacher jousting circles and dilligent Lord Mace is ever trying to climb up."

"As if the accident involving Willas Tyrell means nothing to him," Hamakaze sighed.

"It was quite an uproar when it happened four years ago, but I heard young Willas held no ill will towards Oberyn," Tyrion mused. "And vice versa."

"Very honorable," Owari said before laughing. "Young Daven will have his work cut out for him, that's for sure now."

"It's even attended by actual Valyrian ladies!" Tyrion jested. The three spectators laughed as they watched the Red Bracket participants continued in eliminating each other.

* * *

…

* * *

"Well this is a foregone conclusion isn't it," Swordheart said, chuckling as she and Sandor circled each other. There were no one else in the arena by now, a testament of the skill and ferocity the duo displayed.

"Aye," Sandor replied, his sword twirled about his body in a threatening display.

"Will you considered our owed spar paid with this?" Swordheart said, her long-bladed spear twirled with no less dexterity and threat around her body.

"Hell of a way to pay a debt," Sandor grumbled before pouncing in, sword raised high in an overhead chop. Swordhearts sidestepped the blow, but was surprised by a sudden shoulder charge that hit her in the chest. The blow pushed her back a few paces, necessitating a safety roll.

"Would've been easier fer ya to stay down," Sandor taunted.

"Would've been easier for you to just be a sworn shield, stand around watching people," Swordheart countered, entering a thrusting stance.

"When a chance like this presented itself? Hell no," Sandor growled.

"Ah… I see," Swordheart said, holding her stance while shifting her grip on her weapon closer to the blade. "The… rivalry between you and your older brother, huh."

"Fucker tried to kill me," Sandor replied, his tone low and harsh. "Been tryin' to return the favor since."

"Understandable," Swordheart replied, a slight grin on her lips. "Let's see who has the strength to bring down a mountain, then."

* * *

…

* * *

"By the Seven!" Tyrion exclaimed as the two warriors connected. Sandor, who accepted the blow with his shield, went flying back and hit the barrier fence.

" _Gatotsu_ ," Owari said, a smile on her lips as she nodded her approval. Sandor struggled to stand and regain his footing. "Excellent execution."

"It's as if the Hound was hit by a cavalry charge!" Tyrion marveled. Swordheart leaned to her polearm, clearly spent and breathing heavily. "What does that name mean, Lady Hamakaze?"

"The technique's name translates to… Flash Fang or Sudden Fang," Hamakaze said. "I should eventually learn it in my studies of the _naginata_."

"Amazing…" Tyrion marveled. Swordheart offered a hand to the downed Clegane, and it would be a few noticeable moments before Sandor accepted the help.

"Very simple, too," Owari added. "All the kinetic and rotational energy one had, condensed into the point of one's weapon, then unleashed. Masters are known to break doors with their swords while using the technique."

"Of course, it exacts a heavy toll on those who had not been prepared for it," Hamakaze said. "At least that's my mentors has been telling me…"

"Haha! Indeed it is, my lord and little _deshi_ ," Owari said. "Such amount of energy can break its own user if one's control is lacking… unprepared users can get torn muscles, cracked bone... even fatal injuries, in truly dire occasions. Even when one's properly prepared, it tended to cause much unpleasantness in the evening after the battle."

"Your martial arts is deep and powerful, my good ser," Tyrion said as the umpire declared Swordheart as the winner.

* * *

…

* * *

The final day of the competition dawned like another in King's Landing summer: hot, muggy, and smelling of excreta. Swordheart has been preparing for the final match of the melee tourney, a free-for-all fight of forty people. She has armored up with the armor she used when she fought Jaime Lannister, now painted black as to reinforce her 'mysterious knight' image. Her mustached faceguard is locked in place, blurring her feminine features with bushy white mustache on a black lacquered plate.

"We are done, Ser S-… Soddart," Graeme announced after his final check of tassels and buckles.

"Good job, my squire," Swordheart said.

"Look atcha, all black and menacing," Sandor said as his scarred face poked into Swordheart's tent flap. "People has been gathering up. I think the march's gunna start."

"Aye," Swordheart said as she moved out of the tent. Outside, Graeme handed her the naginata that she will use as weapon in the final match.

"You 'member your promise now," Sandor said as he walked alongside Swordheart toward the gathering spot of the Westerlander camp.

"I'll be sure to give your brother a beating he won't forget," Swordheart replied. People from neighboring tents gathered around the entourage, giving encouragement and generally being loud. Somewhere along the short walk Daven Lannister joined them beside Swordheart, having been eliminated at the joust quarter-finals yesterday.

The gathering square was packed with people, mainly clamoring around one of the four other Westerlander finalists. Of them, Gregor Clegane looked the most striking, with polished plate and towering posture.

"What are you doing here, loser?" the giant barked, gesticulating towards Sandor with his massive sword. A cruel smile bloomed on the elder brother's lips.

"Escorting a friend," Sandor replied in a loud but calm voice, one that was replied with a resounding agreement from his crowd.

"Ha! I'm gonna eat 'im alive!" Gregor replied, one that his own crowd replied with an enthusiastic cheer. The other two's crowd are generally more subdued, but seemingly sided with Gregor's crowd.

"We shall see!" Daven Lannister shouted in reply.

Then, the fanfare calling the contestants sounded, and thus the Westerlander delegation marched towards the main arena, four champions on its head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- If anything, I base the betting in the tourney to the same one that existed in _Mount and Blade: Warband_.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a knight falls.

"This is really quite impressive for a wooden construction…" Yamato marveled as Tyrion lead her through the tribune reserved for the Lannisters. The arena has been erected not far from the jousting lane that would be used for the finals in the afternoon. "And then this whole tribune get disassembled after the tourney concluded?"

"Yes," Tyrion replied. "Reusable parts gets saved for the next tourney, but there would indeed be parts that are simply too worn out or simply unsafe to reuse."

"You'd thought with the frequency of the tourneys the kingdom would erect a more permanent activity complex," Hamakaze said, rubbing her chin.

"Perhaps it was deemed not worth the expenditure… though that particular thought is understandable," Tyrion said as they approach the designated seating. "Does Old Nihon had a similar tradition, my lady?"

"If my memory of the archives serves, contests of martial prowess in Old Nihon are usually much less overt than this," Hamakaze said. "A nobleman would put up notices of a contest of arms, and a handful of masters and come-what-mays will attend the event. Usually it would be done in the yard of the mansion belonging to the noble who held the event, with limited audience. It is essentially a series of duels."

"Nonetheless, there are records of great structures used for sporting events in _Nanban_ … I mean, lands foreign of Old Nihon. The _Ippo-doromo_ of Heirenika was particularly well-documented," Yamato said as they arrived in the box seating. Tywin is already seated there. "Ah, good morning my Lord of Lannister."

"Good morning to you as well, my Lady of Kirino," Tywin said. "Tyrion, how bade my investment for this contest?"

"It has been taken care of, sire," Tyrion replied to the question. "Twenty dragons has been invested on Ser Clegane, and ten each had been invested on Prince Oberyn and Sers Soddart, Selmy, Piper, and Fossoway. The rest are reserved for jousting."

"Interesting picks," Tywin commented. "We'll see how this will turn out."

* * *

…

* * *

"Begin!" the king commanded, and the melee starts.

The black-armored Swordheart quickly retreated from the main brawl in the middle of the arena, circling around on her foot as to gauge the situation. Her curved naginata was held alert, in case some of the fighting spill out towards her. The thickest of the fight seemed to revolve around The Mountain, where he seemed determined to mow down as many knights as he can.

Her quiet respite was broken when a hedge knight charged at her atop his steed. Musing for a moment that the condition couldn't be any more unfair, the lithe warrior quickly evaded the charge while hooking the knight with the curve of her Naginata. The rider quickly finds himself on the ground, and after two blows to his sword hand, yielded.

"Ho, a spear-user?" a lilting voice questioned, his tone full of amused curiosity. "And definitely not a style I have encountered before."

"The Viper of Dorne…?" Swordheart grumbled.

"My name precedes me, I see?" the amused Viper replied. "I'd love to test my skill against yours, Lannister sworn-sword… but a spear in close quarters bring more woe than joy. Truce until there's enough space?"

"Accepted," Swordheart affirmed. "Guard my back as I guard yours?"

"It shall be done," the Dornish man said.

"The Viper! I will be famous if I can beat you!" a knight with a green shield bellowed as he charged the Viper's position. The Viper's visor-less helm betrayed his amused smile as he readied his spear, but the westerman knight's quick trip to the charging knight's ankle made it more amused still. A few jabs of his to divest the helm, and the Reacher knight yielded with a gash on his cheekbone.

"A curious weapon," the Viper remarked as he sent a knight with blue shield tumbling. "I have to ask where you procure it, Ser."

"An Essosi merchant sold me a faulty saber for a pittance," Swordheart replied succinctly as she divested the shield from another freshly-tripped knight, prompting him to jump back up while retreating a step. A quick twirl brought the end-weight of her naginata to his jaw, knocking him out. "Thought it would do well atop a stick, and turns out better with a counterweight."

"Oh, such an original thought," the Viper said. "I can sense that this is a start of a beautiful friendship, my friend."

"They'd say less chatting, more beating," Swordheart replied, parrying the advance of a hedge knight.

* * *

…

* * *

"Look at my girl go," Yamato remarked happily. She sat on a seat of honor, beside the patriarch of House Lannister who looks to the arena with mild interest. "Making friends and taking names! I can't be much prouder!"

"She is attracting quite a lot of attention," Tywin replied. "A keen sense in choosing allies, too. Between her and Oberyn Martell, their personal skill can overpower most of the participants… much less combined like that. I'd say only The Mountain and The Old Ser stood any chance to defeat the both of them now."

"I wonder if Dorne would like an alliance by marriage…" Yamato wondered.

"The Martells hate us Lannisters on principle, allies included. Prince Oberyn is a maverick, but I'm not sure if he would cross his older brother," Tywin said. "I doubt your prospects with them is better than, say, The North."

"But beside The Westerlands, they are the only people whose heirs has reasonable age differences to our women," Yamato reasoned.

"There are also the Tyrells of The Reach," Tywin countered. "If you are willing to overlook the lack of… normality on my son, surely Willas Tyrell's lack of one good foot will not deter you."

"You have a point there," Yamato conceded.

* * *

…

* * *

It felt like an eternity in the melee arena. People come and go, trying their luck against the many other combatants of the arena. Some walk away with victory, half walk away with varying injuries too great, and another half yielded for fear of their lives. The mounted combatants, little in numbers they are, has been the first few to go. Most has fell to the two lancers currently remaining in the arena.

As fate has seemed to decree, only four were left in the arena. The two lances of Swordheart and The Viper of Dorne stands tall, guarding each other's backs with ease befitting of the best sell-swords across the sea. The white enameled plate of Ser Barristan Selmy gleamed bright to the afternoon sun, its wearer standing tall despite his advanced age. The final contestant, Gregor Clegane, readies his greatsword and shield.

"If I may, Lannister sworn-sword, I shall take the big one," Oberyn growled, eyeing the giant with a gleeful smirk.

"I don't mind," Swordheart replied simply, before bolting to the direction of the Kingsguard. The white-armored swordsman is evidently ready, as he brought his kite shield to bear against her pouncing chop. Steel rang as the two clashed, Barristan holding the advantage of defense while Swordheart held the reach.

The stalemate then was broken by a man's body flying across the distance between them. Evidently, the difference in mass was still too much to overcome for The Viper's finesse and skill. The Dornish man groaned as he tried to get up, coughing. Thus, when the Mountain's sword came crashing down, he had no time to put up the defense.

"Gaaaah!" a shout sounded as Swordheart's polearm crashed to the Mountain's arm, altering the trajectory of the blow just enough for The Viper to barely dodge to safety.

"YOU!" Gregor Clegane roared as his potentially-devastating charge gets averted.

"Yes, me," grunted the knight in black, jumping back to safety.

"YOU DIE!" Gregor roared.

"Much say, such eloquent, wow," the smaller knight taunted, her polearm at the ready as the knight talked casually to Barristan. "Apologies, Ser Kingsguard! It appears that my comrade's enemy has taken me as his!"

The old knight's answer were drowned by The Mountain's roar as he charged the black knight, greatsword swinging wildly. Swordheart darted around just outside his reach, trying to deliver a blow through holes in his defense. The Viper tried to get up, but he leaned heavily in his spear as the kingsguard knight approached.

"Prince Oberyn, you are greatly injured," Barristan said. "Please yield and get your wounds treated."

"That is my sister's murderer," Oberyn snarled, his feet unsteady. "I will not stop until he lay dead on my feet!"

"I'm afraid I have to persuade you the hard way, then," Barristan said as he smashed his plated fist to Oberyn's jaw. The Dornish man went out like a snuffed candle.

* * *

…

* * *

"Ooh, that's going to ache in the morning," Hamakaze commented.

"Another bet down the drain," Tyrion replied, sighing.

"I'm sure whoever wins this would pay handsomely indeed," Yamato said. "I don't think a black horse like our cousin could command good odds, especially against as renowned a knight as Ser Clegane."

"Aye, but with such odds the payout is bound to be better," Tyrion replied. "Last I checked, the payout for our Soddart would be one against forty. Worse than Caine Banefort in fact, and he is of little renown outside of the Westerlands."

"I'm sure you'll be reaping your profits either way," Hamakaze giggled.

"I wasn't sure until yesterday, really," Tyrion said. "I was placing my father's bets in several contestants, but wasn't quite sure whether to put it on… Soddart as well. Until he threw Sandor with a thrust, at least."

"I am probably the opposite here, my lord," Hamakaze said, momentarily drawing a tense breath at Swordheart's narrow escape from Gregor's overhead chop. "We are filled with confidence up until I see Gregor Clegane. Lady Yamato ordered a lesser bet to be placed on him, in fact."

"It's good to cover your bases. Elementary lesson in investment, really," Tyrion commented. "How about the jousts? Did you threw in some bets too?"

"Only on Ser Oakheart and Ser Gerion," Hamakaze said, sighing as Swordheart made another narrow dodge.

* * *

…

* * *

"Ghh-!" Swordheart grunted as she let her backwards leap take away the momentum of The Mountain's blow, reducing the damage she felt through her armor and padding.

"Are you alright, boy?" Barristan said, having taken care of Oberyn's evacuation from the field.

"Jolly good," Swordheart replied succinctly. The Mountain did not pursue the exchange, apparently quite winded himself.

"I'll try to buy you some time," Barristan said, stepping up in front of Swordheart. "Think long and good about fighting him."

"Much appreciated good Ser," Swordheart replied, taking her time to recover as Barristan traded blows with Gregor. The clash between the two stoked the crowd to feverish heights, a legendary knight against a renowned warrior.

"Uuurgh… ghraaaaaaa!" Gregor suddenly roared, seemingly finding a second wind some twenty blows into his duel with Barristan. The Old Ser tried staying his ground, but a mighty blow he couldn't effectively parry hit his left leg and broke the stability of his stance.

"Agh!" Barristan grunted as he was thrown to the ground by a follow-up blow. Now at the mercy of the towering brute, he defiantly raised his shield to guard against a coming overhead chop.

The strong blow never came, as in that moment Swordheart rejoined the fray with a shoulder-tackle that caused Gregor to flinch. The big man was angered further and tried to cleave the black-armored knight, but Swordheart has darted out of the way of his greatsword. The crowd went wild.

"By The Seven…" Barristan grunted as he tried to stand. The battle between that plucky black knight and the Mountain of The West was still raging not four spear-length from Barristan, barely audible over the fevered din of the spectators. He tried to use his shield as a leverage to stand, to slow progress.

"DIIIIIEEEE!" Gregor roared. The black spearman in front of him just refused to die! Gregor's eyes were tinged red, and his heart was trying to hammer out of his eardrums; His armor felt like it was seconds from catching fire. The black spearman stood tall still. He desperately looked around, looking for an advantage. Thus Gregor saw Barristan, the old man halfway to being upright.

The mountainous man let out a beastly roar and charged… the old knight.

" _MATTEEEEEE!_ " Swordheart screamed, helpless to see as Barristan was bowled over by Gregor's charge. The old man's body came flying, only stopping as he hit a few medics who scrambled to catch him. They collapse into a tumbled heap, not moving for a split-second Swordheart was looking.

"MONGREL!" Swordheart shouted, her tone thick with anger as she shifted her stance. Her hand shifted in her stance, entering a familiar stance for people watching the Red Bracket's preliminary fight. "FACE ME YOU COWARD!"

Gregor was momentarily stunned. Something he could not logically attribute washed around him, centered on his sole remaining opponent. Something pricks at his senses. Perhaps fear? Yet fear should have had no hold of him. The black spearman stood, less than twenty paces away.

A beat of calm reigned. Then, the smaller Westerlander champion charged. There were a single, brief note of tortured metal, and the crowd saw Gregor Clegane staggering back. He was shrieking, trying to get his shield off of his arm. His sword lay forgotten, tossed in the struggle to get the shield off. It got to a point where the giant was rolling on the ground, broken shaft of the black knight's spear lying nearby.

The audience's confusion vanished after they saw it. Swordheart's glaive-blade has joined Gregor's arm, armor, and shield like a demented nail. Its blade had pierced through his many layers of protection, for even when the edge is blunted the metal retains enough of a piercing point. The moment of silence erupted into an exultant cheer.

It was not flawless, but it was a clear victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The 'mattteeee' Swordheart screamed is meant to be the Japanese _matte_ , which means 'wait'.  
> \- Yamato sounding like she's bullshitting Tyrion? She is, and since the Westerosi doesn't have any third-party reference of Yamato's native world they can't really confirm her truthfulness.  
> \- How Yahagi speared through? Shamanic Space Shintoism. And quantum physics probably.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a warrior was knighted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Text is italic-underlined is meant to denote a person speaking Japanese.

"And the winner… Soddart Hill of Lannsglen!"

Swordheart let loose a long-held breath. She stood alone in the muddy arena, all of her adversaries having been carted off due to injuries or outside the arena by yielding. The crowd was livid in cheers, the small-bodied knight having defeated The Mountain, piercing through his shield with a great thrust.

"Well look at you, boy! A slender knight in a weird armor managed to topple the bloody Mountain!" Robert hollered over the quieting crowd. "From which hedge did you come from, eh?"

"I travel a lot, Your Grace," the warrior said. "But I caught wind of the tourney while I was in employment in the Westerlands, hence Lannsglen."

"Ooh! So you came from the lions' fields, eh? Who knighted you?" the king asked.

"I must profess that I'm… unsure, Your Grace," the black-armored knight replied. "My master might have knighted me before he died, but my memories are a little fuzzy. Must have been too many blows to my head."

"Hahaha! Too many blows to the head, he says! Hahaha!" Robert laughed uproariously at the last sentence. "No matter then, let us make it sure! Squire, a sword!"

Said squire scurried around for a sword, before one of the kingsguard lent his sword. The king made his way to the arena, stopping just a few paces before the winner.

"Take a knee, hedge knight! For Robert Baratheon the King shall knight you! Maybe again!" Robert said imperiously, sword in hand. "And take off that helmet while we're at it!"

"I am unsure that you would proceed in knighting me if I were to divest my helmet, Your Grace," the knight professed.

"Oh you yap too damn much, hedge knight. I've seen half a face eaten by fire before, you can't be that bad," Robert said aloud. "I won't go back on my words, just take the damn thing off already!"

"As you wish, Your Grace," the mystery knight said, before kneeling to one knee. With some difficulty, the knight undid the helm and mustached face-plate. Only when her fair face and sweat-drenched shoulder-length black hair was revealed, the crowd inferred her secret.

"You… you're beautiful! About as beautiful as my little brother, I say!" the king hollered in surprise. "Almost like The Maiden blessed you despite your cock!"

"That's because I am a maiden, Your Grace," the knight said calmly.

"A woman!" Robert bellowed in shock. "A woman won… against the Mountain?"

"You are the witness, Your Grace," Swordheart solemnly said, still kneeling as the murmurs of the crowd take a higher volume.

"By The Seven! Somewhere down the line The Warrior and The Maiden begot you I'm sure! No matter!" Robert bellowed, the sheer pressure of his voice shutting down voices of dissent. "Your name?"

"Swordheart, Your Grace," the mystery knight said.

"Good name. Swordheart the hedge knight, take this vow in The Seven's name! In the name of The Father I charge you to be just! In the name of The Crone I charge you to act with wisdom! In the name of The Warrior I charge you to be brave! In the name of The Maiden I charge you to protect the innocent!" Robert said, each time tapping the shoulders of the would-be knight. "In the name of The Smith I charge you to accomplish glory for your liege! In the name of The Mother I charge you to protect the weak and the young! And in the name of The Stranger I charge you to not hesitate when it's His due!"

"Upon The Seven that is One, I solemnly swear," Swordheart replied aloud.

"Rise, Ser Swordheart! You're a knight now, the first of your kind, so The King declared!" The King bellowed.

"I am honored, Your Grace," the lady knight said.

"And now… I want you for my Kingsguard!" Robert said after he went back to the raised viewing area, to an even greater outburst of outrage than the knighting. The Kingsguards looked between them with great confusion, though Barristan Selmy just nodded solemnly.

"I… I must consult to the one who gave me my name first, Your Grace," Swordheart said, her tone unsure.

"Oh you talk so much, woman! Who is it you must consult?" Robert barked.

"It is I, Your Grace King Robert!" a clear, authoritative voice quieted the crowd once more as a lady in deep blue and white stood from the grandstands where almost all of the Lannisters and their fellow Westerlanders were seated.

"L-Lyanna?" the King mouthed a whisper, before he shouted his intended words. "And who might you be?"

"I am Yamato Kirino, head of the House Kirino whom Swordheart owed her allegiance, and holder of her maiden name," the black-haired lady replied.

"I thought she was employed by Lord Lannister?" Robert inquired.

"I vouched for her enrollment as a ruse to get her past the initial processes," Tyrion replied to the king's question. "Not a strong one, but it served its purpose."

"I was against her entering the tourney, but relented under the condition that she concealed her identity as a hedge knight," Yamato added. "I expected that she would not go far, but alas… here we stand."

"I've never heard of a House Kirino before! Where is your holdfast? Where is your territory?" Stannis Baratheon interrupted.

"We hail from the Smoking Sea, and our holdfast is the Fortress-ship Yamato. The Keep-ships Maya and Hyuuga are the ones you can see from the harbor," Yamato said. "Lord Tywin Lannister knows of us, and Ser Gerion Lannister will further vouch for our trustworthiness if needed."

"Is that true, Lord Tywin?" the king shouted towards Tywin Lannister.

"It is, Your Grace," the Old Lion replied. "They have rescued Gerion from the Smoking Sea about a year ago. Members of the Kirino household has been guests in Casterly Rock since, including Ser Swordheart."

"Interesting times!" The king bellowed. "So, Lady Kirino, will you release your knight to my service?"

"I can, but I would like to request you one favor, Your Grace, the contents of which to be revealed to your court on a later date," Yamato said.

"Very well, Robert Baratheon owes House Kirino one favor! All of you are my witness!" Robert said, to the disquiet of the crowd. Of course everybody knew how well an unspecified favor to be delivered later will turn out, it has been in so many fairy tales.

"Thank you, Your Grace. _Swordheart! You have done well as the sword on my hand_ ," the Mental Model said, changing languages partway. " _Who do you name your successor?_ "

" _I name my elder sister, Owari Kirino!_ " Swordheart replied resolutely.

" _Very well! I relieve you of the burdens of the Swordheart, and let the swords you carry be our parting gift! I release you from your service to House Kirino!_ " Yamato replied after an approving nod. " _And I return to you your maiden name, Yahagi! Be on your way and be well, my kin!_ "

" _Yes, Fleet Flagship Yamato!_ " the lady knight replied aloud.

"It is done, Your Grace," Yamato said, now in fluent Westerosi. "Swordheart is no longer of my employ. Yahagi Kirino is a knight of The Seven Kingdoms now."

"Excellent!" the king commented. "Renly, my future Master of Laws! Has there any law that forbids a knight from entering the Kingsguard?"

"I-… I don't believe so, Your Grace," Renly, who sat not far from the king's platform, answered the question. Stannis seemed to have misgivings, but stayed his tongue.

"Then, Lord-Commander Selmy! Do you have any objection on accepting Ser Swordheart into the Kingsguard?" the king continued, gaining momentum. "Has she displayed weakness, has her ability fell short of your exacting standard?"

"From what I have observed during the melee, no Your Grace," Barristan Selmy replied. "Ser Swordheart has displayed excellent martial skills worthy of a member of the Kingsguard."

"So be it!" the king concluded. "Ser Swordheart, on my authority as King of the Andals, Rhoynar, and The First Men, I induct you to The Kingsguard!"

"My blood shall spill in place of yours. My heart shall stand in the path to yours. My sword shall cut on your behest. By your grace shall I, Yahagi Kirino, serve as your shield and sword," Swordheart solemnly said her oath.

"So shall it be! Bring forth a white cloak for the new Kingsguard!" Robert hollered as Swordheart solemnly kneeled still.

There was stillness in the air for a long few moments. No one in the present Kingsguard stirred, whether from indignation, silent anger, or sheer surprise of the current events no one can discern. Finally, one knight stepped forward and presented a white cloak that minutes ago was fastened to his shoulders.

To everyone's surprise, it was not Barristan Selmy. The old knight had been up to witness the proceedings and his injuries relatively light, yet he did not move.

To everyone's greater surprise, it was Jaime Lannister.

"Welcome to the Kingsguard, sworn sister," he said as he cloaked the kneeling woman.

For that one moment, the queen was as blind as a bull that saw red.

* * *

…

* * *

"Ugh…" Swordheart stirred from her respite. The day had darkened deep. She had little recollection of the aftermath of the melee finals, only being helped along by Owari to her tent. She even slept in her paddings.

Swordheart then stretched, before shedding off the padded gambeson she wore to sleep. After a change of clothes and a bite from a plate of bread put by her bedside, she stepped out to the quiet Westerlands encampment. Her steps took her to the site of the communal campfire. There already was another man there, sitting a few paces from the fire, feeding it chopped logs.

"It's mighty late to be sitting by the fire," Swordheart greeted.

"Back atcha," Sandor grunted in reply. "Was a bit late to the merriment... might as well stay later."

"I see," Swordheart said, chuckling as she offered a clay jug to Sandor. "Shochu?"

"Might as well," Sandor said, "Your land's drink?"

"Mmhm. Straight from the Lady Admiral's stash," Swordheart answered the question. "Cousin Hyuuga should really get around making some more…"

"Huh, good stuff," Sandor said after a deep sip. "Tourney took a lot from you huh."

"Daven said it would have been a feat worthy of olden heroes," Swordheart said. "He has a point. How was the merriment?"

"As you can see," Sandor answered the question, gesturing to people passed out haphazardly around the camp bonfire. "Feed booze to these sort of cunts, they drink until they pass out. Your lord guarantor and his betrothed kept the liquor flowing like a fucking river. There was even music, courtesy of Lady Maya."

"Well, his money really," Swordheart replied, chuckling.

"The armsmen were high in spirits, more so after Ser Gerion won the joust in the afternoon," Sandor said, snorting. "Everybody's happy except Gregor's boys… they keep trying to get to your tent to 'exact revenge'. People got involved, things got worse, and Lord Tyrion decided that they're better off celebrating in the city brig."

"I thank all of you for defending my honor, I guess," Swordheart replied.

"And…" Sandor said as he drew a long breath, before letting out a sigh. "Gregor's dead."

"Mother Izanami cradle his soul," Swordheart said after a moment's pause. "Who knew?"

"I only talked to Lord Tyrion and Lady Hama, but doubtless Lord Tywin knew by now," Sandor answered the question. "Lady Hyuuga was with me, but stayed behind with the Silent Sisters. I think that means Lady Yamato knew also?"

"For sure. Please… accept my condolences," Swordheart said, a little awkwardly.

"Don't. Cunt deserved it," Sandor replied, waving her off.

"How did he die?" Swordheart asked. "He seemed to be screaming when he was carted out. Perhaps in pain, but alive… and if Hyuuga-dono is there, she might have been able to save your brother."

"Some sort of… stroke? Heart attack? Hell if I know, even if I saw," Sandor answered the question. "Medics tried to restrain him, but failed. Lady Hyuuga tried to help but 'twas useless. Then all just… stopped. He was mid-seizure. Froze stiff mid-flail like some demented ape."

"Benkei's Death…" Swordheart mouthed, her words soft.

"What death?" Sandor replies, curious.

"Benkei's Death… it's a certain way of dying. The occurrence were recorded from historical chronicles of Old Nihon. It was thought that dying in or shortly after a strenuous activity would hasten the stiffening of the corpse, often freezing the person stiff mid-action," Swordheart explained. "Benkei Musashibo, the warrior whom the affliction was named, died standing up while defending the gate of his liege-lord's besieged mansion. Yukimura Sanada, died sitting upright on a stool after fighting half an army to get to the army's general."

"So my brother died a hero's death," Sandor grunted after another swig of the drink. "Some fucking hero he is."

"Perhaps we should simply take solace in that... a death like heroes," Swordheart said. "It's too late for grievances to him, anyhow."

"You're right," Sandor conceded. "I should thank you for keeping your end of the bargain, one way or another."

"Your gratitude is already much," Swordheart said, sighing.

"Well, someone else is bound to offer you some gratitude as well," Sandor replied. "Gregor raped a Dornish princess… wife of then-Crown Prince, and killed her during Mad Aerys' downfall. You fought with her brother this morn."

"I see… so that's why The Viper was so hell-bent on fighting Gregor…" Swordheart said after a sip of her jug.

"Aye. Murdered his nephew and niece before his sister too," Sandor said, sighing. "Almost look worse than what he did to my face."

"Older siblings should have cared for their younger," Swordheart replied, a forlorn gaze in her face. "The fact that he inflicted that scarring on you… that alone was abhorrent, but now that you mentioned his other deeds... perhaps it was a form of divine justice indeed."

"Hell… had half a mind to ask for your hand in marriage, y'know…" Sandor said after a deep sip, breaking a few heartbeats of silence that ensued. "Lasted what, five minutes before King Stag made you celibate?"

"That… would be interesting indeed," Swordheart said, chuckling. "Still, what's done is done."

"Aye," Sandor said, stretching a little. "And you're now a Kingsguard. Who would have thought."

"Who would have thought, aye," Swordheart replied. "Want to get knighted here? I heard Sers can knight squires."

"Nay, you'd get an earful from Lord Lannister… I'm still his squire anyhow," Sandor said after a short bark of laughter.

"Well, with Gregor's death you now had to take his place governing your lands," Yahagi replied. "Doubtless that knighting will happen soon."

"Yeah…" Sandor said, sighing. "Well I can't do any worse than him, ain't I?"

"If he treats his subjects as bad as you just implied, yes you can't," Yahagi answered the question. "It could take a lot to turn the conditions around, though. Got ideas on that?"

"…No. I'm just good at bashing people's heads in," Sandor answered the question.

"Revenge has the unfortunate tendency to blind one to everything else…" Yahagi said as she sipped the last of her jug's contents. "But… I have an idea about your lands."

"What idea?" Sandor said, perking.

"The lands we settled in the Smoking Seas is rich in metals, but barren. Now that we seen and has possible access to arable lands, Lady Yamato undoubtedly has plans about a production base for crops needed to make our products," Swordheart explained. "We could operate in your lands. How big are your lands?"

"Not much… I think three villages within two days ride from our keep, give or take. There are also some craftsmen and laborers by our keep, but not many," Sandor answered the question.

"That's more than enough for some crops I think," Swordheart said. "I'll be sure to pass this to Lady Yamato."

"Lord Lannister will be a tough sell," Sandor cautioned.

"Let's leave that to Lady Yamato, she has some tricks up her sleeve I'm sure," Swordheart said, looking eastwards. Dawn is only just breaking. "Oh look, the sun."

"I'm gonna sleep this off for a bit," Sandor grunted as he got up. "See you at the big feast I guess."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I just feel it to be a right sort of thing Robert would do without Jon Arryn (or Ned) to check his use of power. Tywin probably finds it amusing, and he's disinclined to object anyway since he's already pretty buddy-buddy with the Kirinos.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which wine are consumed.

Tommen Baratheon snorted. For a feast to be held in his honor, he sure has little say in it. His mother was socializing with other ladies in the court, while his father… does what he usually does. His sister Myrcella was indisposed, slinking out of the festivities some time ago, while Joffrey… does what Joffrey does, Tommen thought. He dearly wished that none of the kittens would go missing again.

"Mother, I want a walk," Tommen asked.

"You are not supposed to walk around, sweetling," his mother replied half-heartedly.

"But I'm aching on my butt," Tommen whined.

"Lady Yamato of the House Kirino, and her entourage!" the crier announced loudly, and the noise abated a little. Clearly, the woman comandeered some respect and fascination of the crowd.

Through the gate, the aforementioned lady marched in with her entourage of four. The lady in front was clad in a splendid white and blue dress, elaborately decorated with translucent brocade and deep blue velvet. The lady behind her to the left wore a dress of red and white, although the skirt only comes to mid-calf just under her knee; the rest of her feet was covered in what looks like striped leathers. The lady on the right, whom Tommen recognized as the lady who had met him with his nuncle Tyrion, wore another fashion altogether. Her long-sleeved clothes seemed to hug her form tightly while her short hair was gathered by a single ornate hairpin. The lady on the rear was the most mannish, with a two-piece clothing of white accented with blues complemented with a rather telling white cloak. From his higher ground, Tommen saw them glide across the floor, the crowd parting from them in a mixture of curiosity and slight apprehension.

"After this one, Tommen," Cersei replied to Tommen as the four ladies approached.

"Your Grace," the leading woman said as she came up before the throne and knelt. All the others followed suit. "We of the house Kirino wishes all the best for the prince Tommen's third nameday. May he grow to greatness, just as his father and ancestors before him."

"Lady… Yamato, was it," Robert said. "I thank you for your warm greetings and the new Kingsguard. That was a hell of a present."

"And that is not all, Your Grace. My cousin Maya here has saw it fit to part with a few rare items of her collection," Yamato said with a twinkle in her eyes. "Two of them in this very room."

"It must be the large… item under the tarp," Cersei interjected.

"Have you taken a peek, my queen?" Yamato said with a playful lilt in her voice.

"Many people has," Cersei replied, her tone disdainful for the apparent lack of respect the foreign woman accorded. "It looks like a cabinet of some sort."

"I would not fault anybody for not knowing," Yamato said before letting out a little chuckle. "After all, only under the hand of a master would the instrument surrender its secret magic."

"Magic, you say?" Robert asked, curious.

"Yes, Your Grace. The magic of music," Yamato answered.

"I doubt you could produce a finer music than the musician troupe my father brought," Cersei again interjected, her tone more disdainful.

"How much would you care to bet on that, my queen?" Yamato challenged.

"Two hundred gold dragons," Cersei spat.

"You heard that, Maya. Do you have the ability to save my coffers tonight?" Yamato said as she turned to her wayward cousin.

"Ahahaha~" Maya let out an amused trill of laughter as she rose from her kneeling. "A sucker bet for sure, my admiral! My prince, prince oh prince, would you hear me play~?"

"Yes!" Tommen said quickly.

"Then, sit with me as I bring magic!" Maya said as she extended her hand towards the prince. "A greatest seat for the birth-day boy!"

"Enough! Let us see if you are as good as your cousin stated," Cersei said, testily. "And Tommen stays here."

"Aww~" both Tommen and Maya pouted at the same time.

"My king, my queen," the white-clad lady with the white cloak said. "I believe I could escort the prince while my cousin plays. I am, after all, your Kingsguard."

"No-"

"Enough!" Robert finally roared, nipping Cersei's word right at the bud. "Ser Swordheart, see to it that Prince Tommen is escorted to his… greatest seat."

"With my life, Your Grace," Swordheart said as she bowed and then going after the errant prince. Tommen let out a happy noise as he hopped down from his seat before any of them really had .

"Well then~" Maya said with a flourish. "Time to work our magic, Hama~!"

"Indeed," Hamakaze said.

It took them a few moments to uncover the grand instruments and set them up on the smaller stage opposite of the larger one where other musicians played. Interest slowly drifted to the quartet, especially now that Prince Tommen has been escorted to the lesser stage by the new Whitecloak and a lady is setting up large wooden contraptions ostensibly for music.

"Wooah…" Tommen gawked as Maya unveiled her gift.

"This, my prince, is a contraption named the gran-pianoforte," Maya said as she ran he finger across the keyboard. "I believe I have the only other one in Westeros."

"What do it do, lady?" Tommen asked as she sat on a stool beside the instrument.

"It makes music. Magical music quite unlike anything this side of the world has!" Maya said, making wide gestures. "Could you please quiet up, my fellow musicians?"

The musicians of the other stage complied, if because their own curiosity. Cersei glowered from her high seat, but stayed her tongue.

"Thank you. Come sit by me, my prince, as I worked my magic," Maya said as she bade Tommen to sit beside her on the bench.

"Ready when you are," the grey-haired lady said from her seat just beside the large instrument. On her hands was a fiddle nearly as tall as she is, and half again as wide as she is.

"Well then, let's play a love story for our audience Hamahama," Maya said as she smiled a toothy smile to the audience.

The recital started somewhat soft at the start, but Tommen noticed from his seat just beside Maya that the lady Hama was not using the usual bow to make the giant fiddle sing, but was instead plucking at it like a harp. Lady Maya was pressing at the contraption almost randomly, but the melody she played so far was quite… happy. Exuberant, unlike the somber Rains of Castamere that his grandfather and mother particularly liked.

"I fail to see how this might impress me, Lady Kirino," Cersei sneered about half a minute into the song.

"Is that so? We are barely a few moments into the song, my queen," Yamato replied.

Tommen gaped as the lady on the giant fiddle finally used the bow to play. The sound is low and rather mournful, evoking a solemn background to an otherwise energetic composition. The composition segues into a quieter part shortly after.

"Not quite a dancing music, eh," Robert commented as the tempo picked up again.

"Regrettably no, your grace. My sister wanted to show off for this first song, I'm afraid," Yamato replied.

"Ha! She is grabbing a lot of attention for sure!" Robert remarked as the song ascended again in tempo, the new instrument now utilizing lower tones to back the higher notes. For a while the music meandered, then it built an emotional momentum before unleashing a powerful refrain.

"Ah ha~ your brows are disobeying you, my queen," Yamato said as Cersei's brows rose. The redcloaks in attendance started clapping and chanting along with the song. Tommen was taken by surprise, but enthusiastically started clapping moments into the display.

"I… I'm surprised, I must confess," Cersei replied. "How did you arrange this…"

"Mostly our two musician's doing," the foreign lady said. "They talked with the guardsmen who came with the entourage in her ship, and I can see most of them agreed. Perhaps Lord Tyrion had a hand in it, too."

"Oh… I suppose he has," Cersei grumbled.

"By The Seven this is brilliant, Lady Kirino," Robert commented. "Such elaborate music from just two people. Unthinkable! More than a few of the troupe are cowed I see!"

"Well then, are you entertained now, my queen?" Yamato said, a certain twinkle in her eyes as the music softened to nothing. Thunderous applause drowned them not a moment afterwards.

"I-… it's not that your kin is unskilled, but…" Cersei replied uncertainly.

"Oh my, we can't leave any doubt for our queen, can't we?" Yamato said as she made a gesture in the air. Hamakaze visibly noticed the gesture, before signing a few gestures to Maya while saying something. Yahagi strode to Tommen, before kneeling to his height and saying a few words. Tommen shook his head, but after a little more coaxing sauntered to Hamakaze's now-vacated seat.

"What is she doing?" Robert said curiously as he looked at the new seating arrangement. Hamakaze and Yahagi now stood behind the seated Tommen.

"For the next one, I've asked Maya to play to the utmost of her ability and she needed some additional freedom for that," Yamato replied, chuckling lightly as the performance started. "Not a dance tune either, your grace. I'm sorry for that."

The song started rapid, a certain adventurous tone punctuated by the veritable wall of sound Maya was creating. Tommen was smiling excitedly, while a few noble ladies seem positively thunderstruck. Robert was grabbing the armrest of his chair tightly, as if holding himself from jumping out to maul a worthy foe.

"I… I must excuse myself," Cersei said as she stood, the music winding down to a slower, but no less grandiose tune. "You shall have your gold."

"I thank you, my queen," Yamato said as she looked on the queen's departure, escorted by her brother. "Well then, that's a thing."

"If the last one was brilliant Lady Kirino, this is none short of perfection itself. So exciting! My blood pounds to her song!" Robert exclaimed as the song concludes.

"Thank you for your kind words, Your Grace. Mayhaps now the entire keep will recognize her mastery of music," Yamato said while eyeing Hamakaze preparing her instrument for another song. "Ah, I think this one is more suitable for dancing. Cheeky little Maya…"

"Are you an able dancer, Lady Kirino?" Robert asked as the musicians started to play another song.

"I… would think I am at least passable, yes," Yamato replied.

"Then I would like to know how people of your land dance," Robert said, a great grin on his lips.

"It would be an honor, Your Grace," Yamato said as she accepted Robert's hand.

The two highborns descended to the dance floor, with nobles parting around them to allow them space. Robert approached the secondary stage and marveled at the instruments, before noticing some discoloration on the giant fiddle.

"This looks odd…" Robert commented. "Did someone spill brown paint on that part?"

"Oh, that must have been the part where the instrument cracked Euron Greyjoy's skull," Yamato said lightly. "You can ask the Lannisters from The Rock about that later."

* * *

…

* * *

"Ser Soddart, dearest of all my friends!"

Yahagi turned to the source of the voice. Tommen has been escorted to her room by Jaime, while the party gained momentum with his leave. The drinking and reveling intensified, the last hurrah of the tourney week.

"Prince Oberyn, a pleasure," the newly-ordained Kingsguard said. Oberyn Martell stood there, two bottles of Dornish Red in his hands, a little unsteady on his feet.

"Pleasure indeed! I could not thank you enough for breaking a certain mountain," Oberyn said. "Especially after a certain lovely lady…"

"Let us not dwell on that further, o Prince," Yahagi said as she made a hand gesture to stop the tipsy man's words.

"Aye! For all you and your kin have done today, consider yourself good friends of this Martell!" Oberyn said, handing Yahagi one of the bottles in his hand. "Drink, drink to our friendship! Wait, where was that corkscrew…"

"That I can do, Prince Oberyn. Let me entertain you with a magic trick first," Yahagi accepted the bottle, before holding it steady. In front of a slightly confused Oberyn, Yahagi sliced off the upper part of the bottleneck with her bare hand before tipping the content into her mouth in a long swig.

"Damn! I would've said that the bottle had been tampered, if it wasn't one I brought from Dorne myself!" Oberyn said after a heartbeat of stunned silence. "To victory!"

"To victory," Yahagi repeated before they drank some more.

"Ah, the woman of the hour!" a portly lord bellowed as he approached Oberyn and Yahagi. "Prince Oberyn! Might I take her off your hand for a bit?"

"No, my rival!" Oberyn shot back to the equally tipsy lord. "I shall not let you separate me from my dearest friend!"

"Now now gentlemen, let us not be rash here," Yahagi tried to placate both men, although they didn't seem to be moving to trade blows. "Do you know this lord, Prince Oberyn?"

"This great lord here, my friend… is a rival," Oberyn said, his gestures theatrical. "Yes, A rival! Much blood has been spilt between Oldtown and Starfall!"

"Haha! That it is, Prince Oberyn!" the just-introduced Mace Tyrell replied. "That it is!"

"You see, before Dorne is a member of the Seven Kingdoms, we used to pick fights with people from the other side of the hills! With the Durrandons and then Baratheons of the Stormlands, but also The Reach's Gardeners and Hightowers and then the Tyrells after them! And this here is the Lord Paramount of The Reach, Mace Tyrell!" Oberyn explained. "Garlan did well I heard?"

"As well as it could be, without winning any consolation prizes," Mace replied to the Dornish's question. "Bested by one Ser Lannister just outside the final bracket… er the younger one? Not Tywin's brother."

"I presume that would be Ser Daven, son of Stafford?" Yahagi said. "Fine warrior, that one. Fair hand with a sword, but much better on the horse."

"I see! If you judge him fine then fine he is!" Mace agreed with Yahagi. "Oh, and I also heard you bested Jaime Lannister in a duel?"

"Four out of seven is by no means a clear majority," Yahagi said, tilting her head to the right a little. "But yes, that happened."

"By the Seven," Oberyn said after a sip from his bottle. "Now the upset yesterday doesn't seem so sudden after all, eh?"

"Aye, we can toast on that!" Mace said, before he raised his half-empty goblet. "Have you a squire, Ser Kirino?"

"Well… yes and no," Yahagi replied to the question. "Young Graeme Crakehall is dilligent, but closer to the age of a page. If possible at all, I'd search for one of more suitable age…"

"Excellent! You see, " Mace said, having drained his goblet. A pause in the conversation were had as a boy refilled Mace's goblet. "I am prepared to offer the services of my Loras. Youngest son of mine, currently squire to his uncle."

"Loras Tyrell," Oberyn said, rubbing his chin. "Willas wrote about him on occasion… Loras seems to always be hard at work in arms practice. Willas is very proud of his brother… or brothers, he doesn't seem to differentiate between the two…"

"Indeed, under his uncle's tutelage Loras has shown aptitude to many kinds of weapons!" Mace interjected. "Surely a squire every knight wants!"

"That seemed like glowing reviews for young Loras," Yahagi said, smiling.

"I can get one better!" Oberyn said, not to be outdone by the Reacher great-lord. "If you give me time, I can promise you the service of one of the sons of my brother Doran. Or the heir of Dorne herself, Arianne Martell! Maybe one of my daughters! Yes, that will be very interesting indeed!"

"Very unprecedented, true," Yahagi said as she nodded. "Though having a female squire would be bucking the norm too much, don't you think?"

"That it is, my good Prince!" Mace cut in. "Surely enough riverboats had been rocked for now!"

"However, a cupbearer your daughter can be," Yahagi offered an alternative while gazing just over Oberyn's right shoulder. "If not to me, then to my Lady Admiral right over there."

"Eh? Where-" Oberyn said, caught by surprise.

"Right here, my lord," A lilting, amused voice of Yamato Kirino said from behind Oberyn.

"Lady Yamato! I thought His Grace pulled you into his room to…" Oberyn said, a little confused.

"His Grace is much too tired for… further discussions," Yamato answered the question with a sly wink.

As the three nobles conversed, Yahagi took the opportunity to catch her breath. Around her the party was winding down. Most of the ladies had vacated the premises, alongside older lords whom their stamina finally ran out. Many younger men still lingered in the grand reception hall, if only to gawk at Maya as she played tunes on her pianoforte.

"S-ser Swordheart!" A woman's voice made Yahagi turn. There a tall maiden stood, awkward in her ballroom dress, her eyes squarely on Yahagi. "P-please take me as your squire!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you seeking auditory enjoyment from Maya's supposed music, the first song would be Love Story x Viva La Vida by ThePianoGuys, Maya's solo would be He's A Pirate x Game of Thrones Theme (meta, I know) by David's Pianosound and the one after Maya's solo is A Thousand Years, again by ThePianoGuys. You can find all of them in YT.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which books are seen.

* * *

_..._

_Ser Yahagi Kirino, The Swordheart_

_Born in the year 269 After Aegon's Conquest_

_Trained in the warrior arts under_ _The Lady Admiral's Swordheart,_ _Shouzou Chihaya, starting in the year 278 After Aegon's Conquest_

_Pronounced worthy of the titles and duties of a samurai by Shouzou Chihaya in the year 284 After Aegon's Conquest_

_Sworn to the service of Lady Yamato of the House Kirino in the year 287 After Aegon's Conquest_

_Sworn into the duty of The Lady Admiral's Swordheart in the year 288 After Aegon's Conquest_

_Participated in the rescue and homecoming of Ser Gerion Lannister in the year 293 After Aegon's Conquest_

_Arrived in Westeros and resided in Casterly Rock in the year 293 After Aegon's Conquest_

_Conducted seven duels with Ser Jaime Lannister in the year 294 After Aegon's Conquest, winning four bouts_

_Participated under disguise_ _the tourney held to commemmorate Prince Tommen's nameday_ _in the year 294 After Aegon's Conquest_

_Won the melee in said tournament,_ _besting many others before defeating Ser Gregor Clegane in single combat, in the year 294 After Aegon's Conquest_

_Released from the service of Lady Yamato of the House Kirino in the year 294 After Aegon's Conquest_

_Knighted in the Westerosi tradition of chivalry by King Robert Baratheon, First of His Name, in the year 294 After Aegon's Conquest_

_Sworn into The Order of The Kingsguard by King Robert Baratheon, First of His Name, with full approval of the Lord-Commander Barristan Selmy, in the year 294 After Aegon's Conquest_

_..._

* * *

"Good morning, Lord Commander," Yahagi said as she emerged from her quarters, as she found Barristan finishing up his writing on a large tome put on a pedestal.

"Good morning, Ser… Swordheart? Or would you prefer Yahagi?" Barristan Selmy replied.

"Yahagi is preferable, Lord-Commander," the woman knight said. "I am no longer The Lady Admiral's Swordheart... but I suspect it will stick for a while."

"I must admit your traditions and conventions are fascinating, to say the least," Barristan said, chuckling. "I trust the accommodations are set?"

"It is, Lord Commander," the woman knight said. "It is a little… simple."

"Such is the life of a Kingsguard," the commander said. "Is it so different compared to your former arrangement?"

"Not by much," Yahagi said.

"That is interesting to hear," Barristan said. "Oh, and I take it you have no squires at the moment? The White Tower allows up to four support personnel for each White-cloak, in any combination of squires and pages."

"The traditions of retainership between our culture is a little different, Lord Commander," Yahagi replied. "However, back in Casterly Rock I was assigned a squire… though as I recall he is a bit young to serve in a squire's capacity. His age is closer to a page's."

"The differences are quite apparent," Barristan said in an amused tone. "Have you decided on a proper squire then? I'm sure you have been approached by several prominent families already. Your induction in the feast following the tourney would be plenty an indication."

"That I have… I'm a little confused and my kinsmen can only offer little in the way of advices," Yahagi replied. "Lord Tyrion suggested taking the son of his uncle Kevan, Lancel. Lord Oberyn said he can arrange for one of his nephews, or even daughters if I so desired. Lord Tyrell offered his youngest son Loras."

"A Lord Paramount offering his child for squiring is quite a bold political move," the old knight remarked thoughtfully. "I heard Loras Tyrell takes after his uncles and older cousins... good knights all. A worthy choice ever surpassed by just a handful."

"I would depend on your counsel for this, Lord Commander," the lithe woman said. "Though I have seen… an even bolder move."

"Oh? Who could be bolder than Mace Tyrell, pray tell?" the old knight asked.

"A maid of the island of Tarth, I believe," Yahagi answered the question. "She is about ten-and-seven by my reckoning… thick bones and stout body, mannish even. It is beyond the norm, yet approach me she did. She said that she seeked to learn from me, and her father acknowledged the choice."

"Ah… I believe you are talking about Lord Selwyn Tarth's daughter Brienne. I have heard of her and her… misfortunes," Barristan said.

"Misfortunes?" Yahagi asked curiously.

"Yes. Her only brother died from drowning a few years ago, and before that her elder sisters died young too," the aged knight answered the question. "Her first intended died from disease, and recently she has been spurned by another of her intended."

"Such a great burden, yet her eyes is unclouded and her spirit unbowed…" the female knight said to no one in particular. "Such is a sign of great steel."

"Hmm," Barristan hummed in accord. "Well, I suppose putting this off for a little while will not be detrimental. After all, our duties for the day awaits, Ser Swordheart."

"You are right, Lord Commander," Yahagi said.

* * *

…

* * *

"Lord Tywin Lannister," Yamato greeted the Westerlands' Lord Paramount as she entered the room. A long bundle was partially obscured by the way she carried it. "Good day."

"Lady Kirino," the Lannister lord-paramount replied, looking up from a piece of parchment he has been writing. "Good morrow to you too. Have a seat for a while."

"I hear you will peruse the services of one of us in returning to the Westerlands?" Yamato asked after a few moments of silence and lord hard at work.

"I and some of the main entourage, true... we have an Ironborn problem to address, not to mention Tyrion's wedding. The others would escort Gerion in a… victory tour of the Westerlands," Tywin said as he finished the letter he has been writing. "Are you staying in King's Landing, then?"

"Yes. I have met with the… middle-man Tyrion recommended and would be looking at a few possible locations for our store while negotiating guild permits and the like. I'll be on the wedding though, so don't start without me," Yamato answered the question. "Although... we have heard of your desire of owning a Valyrian steel blade, my lord."

"Is that so," Tywin said, unruffled as he sealed the letter with gold-flecked red wax. "A well-known fact, though after you returned Brightroar to me it has lessened."

"Then today is the day your dream is fulfilled, for I came to give this to you," Yamato said, putting the cloth-covered object on the desk. "Consider it perhaps… a very late nameday gift."

"This is…" Tywin said, quickly unwrapping the bundle with zeal befitting of a man half his age.

"I'm afraid it is a little shorter than Brightroar was," Yamato quipped as Tywin unsheathed the bastard sword from its scabbard. The blade was a very dark grey interspersed with veins of lighter shades of steel. It was longer than a longsword, but not quite the length of a greatsword like Brightroar was. The base was three and a half fingers wide, and the crossguard was a mix of the Nihon and Westerosi style. The hilt is bound by red strings and yellow-dyed sharkskin, in a style he recognized from Lionfang.

"This blade… does it have a name?" Tywin said, his eyes drinking the sight of the valyrian steel bastard sword in his hands.

"If you look at the base of the blade it has a pair of Old Nihon letters carved in gold," Yamato said. "It is read _Hokori_ , and that word means 'pride'. A proud sword of a proud house."

"I see… then _Pride_ it shall be called," Tywin said, his voice tinged with emotion as his eyes lingered on said letter. "So many years had passed… so many insignificant minor houses snubbing my efforts to gain a worthy sword. Where did you obtain this?"

"We lived in Valyria, my Lord. Rare as it is that we come to its shores, we did come across half-melted dragonsteel items from time to time," Yamato said. "Then we heard of the expertise of one Tobho Mott, and decided for this."

"I see…" Tywin said after a sigh. "I know that this sword is not a gift given lightly, my lady. What is the price for this blade?"

"Its price is friendship," Yamato replied to the question. "My only wish for it is for the Lion to never forget the friendship with the Fog across the sea."

"Fog?" Tywin asked, curious of the emphasis.

"Yes," Yamato answered. "If written in that same ancient script of Nihon, the letters that spelled 'Kirino' translates into 'of The Fog' to Common Westerosi."

"As with your price after returning Gerion and Brightroar, you ask a price both great and small. Yet, in consideration of what your house has done to mine so far... consider it done," Tywin said, re-sheathing the sword with a resounding sound. "The Lion and The Fog… I like the way it sounds."

"There is another matter I wish to address, however," the woman said. "About House Clegane in the wake of the death of the partriarch. I feel that House Kirino should offer some sort of reparation, as Ser Gregor's death was directly caused by Ser Yahagi's actions."

"Gregor was… a solution ever in search of problems," Tywin sighed. "His sudden passing is unfortunate, but I am not much influenced by it."

"Aside of a proposal that I will elaborate further in a minute, we are also prepared to offer kinship," Yamato offered. "One of my cousins could be betrothed to Sandor Clegane, as he would inevitably has to return to administer his territory and sire progeny to advance his line."

"A greater reparation than what is deserved, but a fitting one," Tywin said. "As House Clegane's direct liege-lord, such a betrothal would be within my right to put forward… especially since Sandor does not have elders who would arrange it for him."

"In fact, Sandor confessed of wanting to ask for Ser Swordheart's hand in marriage before our king dashed that idea to the rocks," Yamato said, giggling towards the end of the sentence.

"You seem to have an alternative ready," Tywin replied, his tone amused.

"Ser Yahagi's youngest sister Hatsushimo is a little young, but will reach full majority in a year or two," Yamato said. "Perhaps a betrothal now, and two years of apprenticeship to a lord you trust so she is prepared to be running the land in Sandor's stead."

"...Where did you find out that Sandor is little inclined to affairs of ruling?" Tywin asked.

"Yahagi has great observation powers. She is also the one who floated the idea to me," Yamato replied. "The two had been talking in the aftermath of Gregor's downfall."

"I see. If the poor performance of Gregor's lands is to be a yardstick, Sandor could only improve with help from your house," Tywin said before nodding. "I understand Ser Swordheart has an older sister… why not her instead?"

"Owari is my Swordheart now, and Kasumi by now is so close to finishing her training to be a fully recognized samurai," Yamato replied, her tone a little sad. "Surely you shall not begrudge me that, my Lord of Lannister?"

"No, I shall not," Tywin answered the question. "Yet how about the young lady's education?"

"So far Hatsushimo had been given a similar training to her three elders, but she thus far is more inclined towards the art of war on a grander scale... stratagems, logistics, and the like," Yamato explained. "She should take to statecraft and administration like a duckling to water."

"We will see. I will be very exacting," Tywin replied. "Now about the other proposal?"

"Yes… we intend to use Clegane's lands as a pilot project for cultivation of special crops," Yamato started her explanation. "Crops we will eventually need for our venture here in the capital…"

* * *

…

* * *

"A raven has came from Winterfell, my Lord Hand," Hugh said, presenting a thick letter to Jon Arryn. "The maester said it has been marked for priority."

"That is a mite odd," The old lord said, breaking the pristine gray wax stamped with the dire wolf sigil. Jon then noticed that the message contained two set of papers, one with remnants of white wax seal on the joint of its folds. "Is there any more letter with this? Perhaps from Lady Stark to my wife?"

"None, Lord Arryn," Hugh answered the question.

"I see. You may return to your post," Jon said, before beginning to read the letter.

A few long minutes would pass as the old lord pored over the document, reading it back and forth to discern the purpose that the letter might serve. _Ned is no southron man_ , Jon thought. _There's not a bone in his body that is colored with fanciful imagination. There are easier ways to garner Southern attention than to conjure tales of a castle besieged by wights, grumkins, and snarks… and as a man in the farthest frontier of the civilized world, Jeor Mormont would have to be even more practical than Eddard Stark. What in damnation is happening out there…?_

"Lord Arryn," the door-guard said, breaking the man's thought. "Lord-Commander Selmy is here, with that… new woman."

"I… see. Let them in," Jon replied as he rose from his seat, and moved to pour himself a glass of mint-water.

"Good morrow, Lord Hand," Barristan greeted Jon. "We attend to your summons."

"The man… or should I say, woman of the hour," Jon said after a sip of water.

"Yahagi of the House Kirino at your service, my Lord Hand," Yahagi said, bowing deeply.

"The first woman knight in the whole history of The Seven Kingdoms, and the first female Kingsguard on top of that," Jon continued, putting his finished glass on the table. "The first in three centuries, of which not even warrior-queen Visenya can parallel. That is a feat worth songs, Ser Kirino, yet allow me some… doubts given that I am well-acquainted of the habits of our king. Ser Selmy, why have you accepted her?"

"Because in her core she is a great warrior worthy of being a Kingsguard, my Lord Hand," Barristan replied without a pause to think. "Surely you know of the Vigil of The White Cloak?"

"I am familiar," Jon replied. He had witnessed a few of it, being the main acceptance ritual of a Kingsguard.

"Sers Greenfield and Trant conspired to either maim or injure Ser Kirino. They used sharp weapons in the Trial of The Wolf," Barristan continued his explanation. "The third assigned assaulter, Ser Moore, did not know of this conspiracy and was too late to act against it. Not only Ser Kirino escaped without a scratch, she also broke their weapons with her bare hand."

"By The Seven," Jon said, his voice tinted by a deep surprise. "And would this trespass go unpunished, Lord-commander Selmy?"

"They are being sentenced to full-shift daily rampart patrol for a moonturn," Barristan replied to the question. "In full armor and battle gear."

"I see," Jon sighed. "The kingdom deep in debt, The Wall besieged, and now infighting within the Whitecloaks. We are too old for this pit, Ser Barristan."

"Aye… but pardon me my Lord Hand, but what is this about The Wall besieged?" Barristan asked, surprised by the word. "Who in their right sane mind would besiege a seven hundred feet tall wall of ice that stretched for hundreds of miles?"

"Ah… well, that was a slip I did not intend," Jon said, a chuckle tinting his sage voice. "But that is what Ned Stark, and by extension Lord-Commander Jeor Mormont, wrote to me. Here, have a read for yourself."

"Would it not be prudent for the kingdom to send agents there, assessing the situation?" Yahagi cut in with a question.

"If the kingdom reacts to every single rumors like this Ser Kirino, we will be stretched thinner than a silk thread," Jon answered. "The journey alone can take a moonturn on a good season, and as far as I know that good season will soon pass."

"Lord Stark is famous for his steadfast morals, my Lord Hand," Barristan offered his opinion as he finished reading Jeor's letter. "For him to write to you like this, it must not have been a trivial matter to him."

"I was his foster-guardian Ser Selmy, you need not remind me," Jon replied, his tone a half-hearted snap.

"If travel time is the obstacle hampering us, then let my house help the kingdom in this undertaking, my Lord Hand," Yahagi offered. "Ser Lannister can attest of our week-long sail from Casterly Rock to King's Landing… and if my read of the maps provided for our journeys here, our ships can manage half that to... Eastwatch was it? The eastward port servicing The Wall."

"Be as it may, Ser Kirino," Jon replied, his tone wary. "Who can we trust to report about this matter in a truthful manner?"

"I… concede that point, my lord," Yahagi answered the question.

"Perhaps Ser Oakheart might be spared for the task if the journey can indeed be shortened by that much. There and back again within a moonturn would be very fast," Barristan said. "Then a few more nobles and knights, for additional veracity."

"Well, if this matter can be resolved, the kingdom shall be short one problem and I shall take any advantage we can get," Jon said, his hand clasped to each other. "Shall I delegate this matter to the Kingsguard then, good sers? Find the truth and report it to me as swift as you can as I brief our king about this and try to prevent him from demanding to go along. Take the letter from Jeor Mormont as a proof. You may request relevant funds from the Office of Coins, but try and keep the expenditures reasonable."

"It shall be done, my Lord Hand," Barristan said as he accepted the folded letter. "By your leave."

Jon sighed as the knights departed his office, carrying with them the letter from Jeor Mormont. He gazed forlornly to his sea-facing window, massaging his eyes before his gaze strayed to a thick book on a side-table half buried in folders of report and stray sheets of miscellany. The spine showed a long title, visible from the distance between the lord's chair and it if one would squint hard enough.

_The Lineages and Histories of The Great Houses of The Seven Kingdoms_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand that's a wrap for now! You can check out the sequel, _A Capriccio of Winds and Earths_ , over at ffn. Ciao!


End file.
